A Magnificent Depravity
by Eglentyne
Summary: Sebastian discovers that Ciel has an attraction to his butler that can no longer be ignored. Taking advantage of the earl's desire, the demon further corrupts his master. What sort of calamity will befall Ciel as a result of this vicious manipulation? Dark/Yaoi/Shota. For mature audiences. Ch. 10: You really, REALLY need to read this chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: Congratulations on stepping into the SebaCiel fanfic to **end all SebaCiel fics. **  
That is terribly arrogant of me, and I ask that you indulge me, because that is precisely what this project is. This bit of depraved fiction is the exploitation of the incredibly dynamic, taboo, and sordid pairing that we all know and love. While I would consider the plot of this story to hardly be unique, I would hope that my character study will bring some fresh perspective on just why we find this pairing so very entrancing. As the story progresses, I do hope to shock.

**Warning**: This is an adult fanfic. It is written by an adult, for adults. This story will get increasing explicit as I continue it, and I refuse to excuse the content of this work. Look at the title. "Depravity" should be a dead giveaway.

Also, this story contains shotacon. I'm assuming if you clicked on this story knowing what "Seb/Ciel" entails, I don't have to explain this to you. If you don't know, it means a story centered around the sexual relationship between a boy and a man. If this is something you can not tolerate, then for your sake as well as mine, hit the back button and resume your business.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Kuroshitsuji. The credit for creating this franchise is Yana Toboso. This fanfic is not affiliated with Square Enix, A-1 Pictures, Yen Press, or Funimation. I'm just a crazed fan girl who is in no way profiting from this story.

Alright, let's get on with it.

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**A Magnificent Depravity - Chapter 1**

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I first noticed a change in the young master's demeanor when he insisted on bathing himself – without my aid. At the age of fifteen, I assumed Ciel would eventually want his space when it came to private matters and initially thought nothing of it. The events of that first night quickly led me to understand that it was not just a need for independence.

I had just returned from preparing a bath and there was the young earl in his study. He sat in his Queen Anne – style armchair by a crackling fire, his back to the door. With his left leg squarely crossed over the other, he propped a book that didn't seem to be keeping his attention. Instead, his attention was lazily set on the flickering hearth fire.

From the doorway I soundlessly crept around to the other side of the room, staying in the shadows. I looked at the contents of his desk. Papers were strewn everywhere – contracts, an accounting book with never-ending columns of numbers, letters from distribution companies and design proposals for a new line of stuffed rabbits. No doubt the earl had only recently ended his work for the evening. I watched him continue to gaze into the fire, his chin resting on a bent arm crooked on the armrest. Dark circles were under his eyes, and he let out a soundless yawn.

"Might I suggest," Ciel jumped at my abrupt announcement, "that the young master should retire for the evening?"

The book fell from his lap as he immediately sat up. Of course he had not noticed me enter the room. "Damn it Sebastian, announce your presence next time!" He quickly reached down and retrieved the tome that had ungracefully fallen to the floor.

"My apologies, young master." I bowed slightly.

"And another thing: I don't need you to tell me it is bedtime," the boy chided, crossing his arms like the stubborn child he is. Regardless, I decided to play along.

"Very well. I do believe that at your mature age, I am in no position to mandate a strict bed time for you." I pointed to the clock standing by the door. The face read half-past eleven. "However, being as late as it is, I only wish the young master be rested for his company tomorrow."

Ciel groaned at the mention of company.

"I presume you are done with the paperwork for the evening?" I strode toward the fireplace on the opposite end of the room.

He sighed. "For the evening, yes, but my accounts are hardly finished. And I would rather finish them tomorrow than spend the day entertaining…"

I gave a small grin. "Did you expect you would get it all done tonight after putting the work off for the better part of the week?"

"Sebastian, I don't need your criticism." Ciel looked ready to hurl his book at me.

"It appears you _are_ rather tired, young master." I gingerly took the book from his hand and placed it in its rightful slot on the shelf behind him. "It would be beneficial for you to relax in a bath before retiring. You appear to be a little tense." From the stack of books I walked over and placed my hands on his shoulders. The muscles were tense. Perhaps he had sat hunched over his desk all day after all, desperately trying to sort out his accounts.

He shrugged my hands off. "And I suppose you want to bathe me too?" I looked at the boy inquisitively. What elicited this comment, I wondered?

I folded my arms. "This has been the norm for some years, young master, unless you would prefer otherwise?" I never heard him voice a remark like this, as if he did not want me to do something for him. His cheeks held a twinge of pink. He looked off to the side in that, "I do not wish to discuss it" manner. I knew that if I ever brought his inhibitions to light, he would surely lash out at me. Perhaps Ciel is ready for more self-reliance when it comes to his own private matters, I considered.

I gave a slight bow. "Well, I already drew a bath for the young master. Everything is set for you. In the meantime, I will prepare your bed." I turned on my heel and headed toward the door.

"Sebastian –, " I stopped at the threshold, glancing back. The boy looked taken aback, lips parted as though he had a word to say but no breath to say it with. The hearth fire gave a soft pop, as if to make a sound simply to break the silence.

"Yes, young master?" I smirked. He was doing this a lot lately. I was used to the boy just spitting out commands whenever the desire presented itself. However, for the past few weeks, I sensed hesitation in his requests. The behavior was a new development. I softly proclaimed, "Anything you need, I'm willing to provide."

"No, really, I'm… thank you. Please, do as you will. I'll just… go to my bath…" Ciel picked up an oil lamp from the petite table next to his chair. Light in hand, he bolted up and headed to the door, trying hard to keep a measurable distance from me, as I was standing just at the threshold. "I have it. I mean, you can go… now…" As he sauntered around me and out into the hall, he kept his eyes averted, as if there was something fascinating about the floor that was worth his notice.

"I hope you find it relaxing, my lord." He nodded without saying another word. I watched his light bob as he strode down the hallway to the other end where his bath was waiting.

As I momentarily stood in the hallway, heavily darkened save for the dim light that leaked from the study, I thought about the nature of my bond to Ciel. The truth is that the young master has never known about how strong our telepathic link truly is. He knows that he is able to give silent orders, but he has always been under the impression that I was only tuned in when he wanted to give an order. How silly. When he demanded of me five years ago to be given as much power as possible, that sealing of our demonic covenant, he had little idea of all of its implications. I too was given as much influence over him as he over me. Being the sly devil I am, would one honestly think I would divulge all the conditions of the agreement?

The boy never asked, so I never saw fit to tell him.

I only considered these truths because it was apparent that something was causing the young master distress. Perhaps it was Elizabeth coming to stay, I initially thought, but when I considered how he gazed into the fire, I recalled a look of longing set on his features. Sometimes the fire can show a man what he truly craves – and Ciel looked as though he desired to be consumed by it. The thought was amusing, and I wondered what desires the boy was harboring that perchance I could fulfill for him.

After banking the fire and organizing papers in the master's study, I walked to his bedroom. I stoked the fire and placed a grate over it, so the light would not keep the master awake. I laid out a freshly pressed outfit on the couch by the foot of the bed and turned down the covers. I could smell the boy on the sheets, as pristine as they were. A human's scent lingers on linens. It wafted as I folded back the comforter: musk, honey and jam, bergamot, lavender. The lavender has only complemented a newly developed scent on the boy, a smell of pheromones, heady and dense. Being honest with myself, I found it absolutely intoxicating.

I could sense him in the bathroom, relaxed in the tub. No, not entirely relaxed; a shivering, quickening. I felt his heart palpitate, not as though distressed, but in anticipation. I felt his tension mounting. I could see the rosy tint on his chest, his cherub face strained by his own pleasure.

One of my speculations was confirmed. This was his reason for wanting privacy. Perhaps he was too ashamed to admit his natural, carnal inclinations?

Then I heard the word escape his lips, silent and breathy, but to me it rang as clear as a bell.

"… Sebastian!"

My body tensed immediately, and I sensed his release. In that moment I realized just how acutely I could feel the heat of the young man's flesh. I could smell the sweetness of the blood that coursed so vivaciously through his flushed skin. I could taste the tang of the sweat on his brow. As soon as my perception registered these sensations, they left just as quickly.

Was he calling for me? Should I appear before him? Normally, the response was automatic, like a dog responding to food. But I sensed no urgency on his part: utter relaxation, contentment, and… the slightest twinge of guilt. I decided not to respond.

Well, this was a new and unexpected turn of events, I thought to myself. I'm typically not the one to be surprised, but this is a development that I had not anticipated, or perhaps I never allowed myself to. Then again, the relationship that I hold with the young master is quite unique. Perhaps it is worth exploring this newly found lust the boy was harboring, I considered. It was very curious, and it would be in the master's best interest to come to terms with it.

Who was I kidding? I had much to gain from this prospect as well.

He made his way into the bedroom, towel dried, and in the night clothes I had set out for him. The fatigue in his features indicated he was quite ready for bed, except his hair was still sopping wet. I quickly procured a towel from the armoire nearby. "My dear master, you can't hope to sleep with your hair in such a state. I would hate to see you catch your death." He walked to the bedside table to set down his oil lamp he had carried from the bathroom, only to cross his arms in that defiant manner.

As I approached, he grabbed the towel out of my hands and began to rub his head furiously. His frostiness was surely due to crankiness, I reasoned. I gently put my hand on his shoulder. "Please allow me." I gently steered him to sit on the bed. The young master had not yet taken off his eye patch. What a ridiculous child; he had worn the blasted thing in the tub. I tugged at the ends of the bow, the wet ribbons giving a slight resistance.

Ciel plopped down and cut me that sneering look, his violet right eye gleaming in the warm yellow lamplight. "Why must you always dote on me?"

I laid the eye patch next to the lamp, and then took back my towel. "Ever since the master has requested this treatment," I replied. "And might I remind you, it has been such for a number of years." I gently began to towel dry his hair. I loomed over him so he would not be inclined to skirt away from me.

He huffed in that impatient manner of his. "Well I… don't know if I need your pampering."

There was a moment of silence as I continued.

I tossed the towel on the floor and opening the drawer in the bedside table, I reached for a comb. I responded quietly, "I did not think it was ever a matter of need, young master." A smirk crept into the corners of my lips.

The boy slumped with a look of frustration. He very well knew how much he had grown accustomed to my doting, and the comfort it brings. It was always, always a matter of want with him; he preferred the attention.

I did not mind paying it. I suggested gently, "I will comb your hair."

A mild flush of red erupted on his cheeks, but he did not disagree. How could such a simple gesture warrant this reaction? I was quite amused and decided that perhaps I could give him a real reason to blush.

Then I decided to do something I had never done before. I sat on his bed, directly behind him.

I could smell the musk and lavender, especially since I had added lavender oil to his bath. A fresh sweat had erupted on his forehead. He knew just how unprofessional I was acting. He also knew that I was extremely close and didn't know what to feel about it. Tenderly I began to comb the wetness and unruliness out of his hair.

It was silent, save for the master's soft yet quick breathing, and the welcoming crackle of the fire. Most humans hate this sort of tension, this awkward silence. I revel in the uneasiness. Such discord makes my line of work a little more enjoyable.

The lamp light reached only to the corners of the bed, making the room feel closeted, like there was only enough room for the two of us to occupy the dim space.

"Sebastian," Ciel piped up with slight hesitation in his voice, "Why don't you take your gloves off while doing that?"

"While I am combing your hair?" I was only slightly surprised by the suggestion.

He turned to look at me. "It just seems… well, don't you just hate the feeling? You know, when your clothes are wet?" I snickered. Only my master would be keen to point out life's little discomforts.

He turned and glanced at me with those mismatched eyes. As I focused on his blind right eye, I thought to myself... To see the world for what it is but incapable of perceiving the depth of it: what a poetic tragedy. In it I saw all his darkest thoughts, the shame, the yearning for something that he was either too afraid to admit or too ignorant to comprehend. He wanted something from me, but was confused as to what that could possibly be.

I set the comb in my lap as I slowly pulled the gloves off with my teeth. Neatly folded, I secured them in a breast pocket and continued to work. I combed a few locks of hair through my naked fingers… I could seriously get lost in this, I thought darkly. As I grazed my dark nails against the back of the boy's neck, his calm exterior could not mask the blood that coursed too fervently through him. He was struggling to not show signs of this heightened state. His breathing was labored, from high in his chest, even if he was trying to make it sound steady and calm.

It was only proper for a butler to be wearing gloves when handling the master in these private matters, and now I understood precisely why. This was far too indecent for good English gentlemen, but then again, I am simply a demon and a butler.

In need of some distraction, Ciel sighed exasperatedly, "Sebastian, I have a problem."

"What is it?"

"I haven't a valentine for Lizzie."

I chuckled, and replied a little too sarcastically, "Oh, that _is_ a problem."

I knew that Ciel wasn't at all looking forward to Elizabeth's stay for Valentine's Day. It was not so much that he did not care for the girl. He found her too ebullient for his low key character at times. For the young lady, Valentine's Day was comparable to Christmas.

"Never mind that, young master," I proclaimed as I set the comb down on the table. I had to lean in a little too close in order to do it. "As far as Lady Elizabeth is concerned, I will procure a valentine for you to gift to her."

The boy sighed. "But this still doesn't solve the situation concerning my work."

"You work yourself hard enough," I stated. "You do not seem in a calm enough state for sleeping. Perhaps you need a massage."

He looked back at me. "What are you playing at?"

"I wish for you to be well rested for tomorrow. Also, you have been hunched over your desk for most of the day."

For a moment he eyed me suspiciously, and then conceded with a nod. He unbuttoned the front of his nightshirt, and slipping his arms through the top, he let the gown pool around his waist. I beheld the ivory flesh, marred solely by the brand he received years ago.

Sure, I was being truthful in wishing the earl be well-rested, but that is not to say I did not want another excuse to touch him. The tense muscles in his shoulders begged for some relief.

"You have been holding so much stress here for the last couple of days," I declared as I began to knead his shoulders. I was not even very deep into the tissue when I heard a breathy moan from his lips. In that moment I felt his control slipping, my hold on him growing deeper.

Ciel moved to lie on his stomach, over the comforter. "So, the young master permits me to relieve him of this tension," I said in response to his action.

As I worked the skin grew pink under my pale hands. The circulation was increased in this area, permitting me to dig deeper into the tissue. "You have this knot—" I pressed down just underneath the left shoulder by the base of the neck and he hissed, inhaling sharply. When I let go, he exhaled deeply, the muscles relaxing in tandem. "How unfortunate that the young master should work himself so hard…" He was like clay in my hands, willing to be forced into whatever form I wanted. He whimpered from the pain I exerted, and sighed when I released my grip.

I worked my way down his back, along the spine that gently raised the skin. When I got to the small of his back, he turned his face away from me, away from the lamp light. I gingerly trailed a black nail down that white skin above his hips and he shuddered. When I did it again he feebly attempted to stifle a yelp.

How very amusing, I thought. There was no doubt that this was an erogenous zone, and here I was trailing my bare hands down it. I placed both open palms on the small of his back, taking in the sensation of his heat. He moaned into his pillow, and it was all I could do to not pursue this further. I could smell the arousal in his skin. I was amazed by how a simple gesture could affect him so.

Muffled by the pillow, he said scathingly, "Are you quite finished?"

"I suppose I can be." The boy sat up and faced me with his bare chest, the night shirt still pooled around his hips. "I hope you feel relaxed enough after that." I helped him lift the night wear up and insert his arms into the sleeves.

"Hardly," he muttered. Ciel began fumbling with his buttons.

"Allow me," I said in response to his apparent difficulty. As I made quick work of the buttons, I made sure to let a finger slip across his collarbone. I acted as though I hadn't noticed the hitch in his breath, or the flush on his cheeks.

"Sebastian, I would prefer to start dressing and bathing myself," he declared.

"Very well." Let the boy have what he wants and see what comes of it, I thought to myself.

Silence remained stiff in the air as Ciel's gaze grew more resentful. "You don't think I can manage – do you?"

"I imply nothing of the sort." I pulled my gloves out of my pocket and slipped them back on my hands, which were tingling. I rose from the bed as Ciel slipped into the covers. Picking up the lamp and used towel from the floor, I made my way to the door.

"Goodnight, young master," I said as I made my leave.

I was just about to close the door behind me – "Sebastian."

"Yes, young master?"

He hesitated, the quickly proclaimed, "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

Damn it all.

I cannot tell lies.

"Yes, very much, in point of fact." I closed the door without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

I dedicate this chapter to a certain art history professor, who's extensive knowledge of French architecture and various art forms of the 18th century turned me into a Francophile, despite my inherently British leanings.

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The young master nervously dug his foot into the gravel as Elizabeth's carriage came to a stop in front of the house. I eyed him disdainfully, knowing that I would have to oil and polish those shoes again if he kept fidgeting like a child. I was already slightly irritated with the boy after a trying morning.

Shortly after sunrise, I gently knocked on his door before entering. For the past few years it was customary for me to simply walk in, announce my "good morning" and sweep open the curtains. Seeing as how Ciel wanted to be a little more independent in his morning and evening rituals, I felt it best not to be so intrusive. When I heard no stirring in the room, I knocked a little louder.

"Master, it is time for you to get up," I called through the door. This felt most peculiar, I thought, standing outside his room like I have no business entering it. I may not be human, but I will admit that I am a creature of habit. I opened the door enough to peek in my head. There was the boy, spread out on his stomach and tangled among his bed linens. This was an indication that he did not get the best-quality sleep the night before.

"Young master," I called sternly from the door way. I was greeted with a muffled whine as Ciel flopped over, his back to the entrance.

"This is completely futile," I grumbled to myself. I strode over to the window opposite his bed and whipped the curtains open. "You have a big day ahead of you, young master," I chirped, trying very hard to remove the budding irritation from my tone. Upon the light flooding the room, the boy retreated under his covers and gave an incoherent bellow of defiance against the beginning of a new day.

"Would you like a cup of tea, young master?"

"Hnnn… yes, three sugars, please," he mumbled from under the covers. I sighed. "Well, breakfast is waiting for you in your study. I assumed you wanted to finish up a bit of work before Lady Elizabeth arrives. Get dressed and you may have your tea." As I made my way for the exit, I heard the boy bolt upright from the covers.

"What is this? Where is my tea, Sebastian?" he whined.

"As I said, it is in the study."

Ferociously, he grabbed a pillow and feebly hurled it at me. Catching it was by no means difficult. "Young master, we do not have time for games. Please get dressed before your meal gets cold."

In the study was a trolley that carried poached eggs benedict on English muffin, slices of cured ham spiced with clove and a delicate Darjeeling tea. I had a feeling I would have some resistance from the young master with this change in routine. Regardless of whether he asked for it or not, he was used to being spoiled, especially when it came to setting him straight in that first hour of the morning.

When the boy entered the study a few minutes later, it took quite a bit of will to refrain from laughing at him. His hair was disheveled, his tie was crooked, and his shirt was poorly tucked. He missed one of his buttons when buttoning his shirt and one of his socks was not entirely secure.

"Young master," I teased, "did you tie a knot in one of your shoelaces?" I covered my mouth, because I couldn't keep myself from grinning.

"Shut up," he growled between clenched teeth.

The only thing he managed to get right was that eye patch, neatly secured behind this head. "Come here and let me fix you," I suggested gently. He resentfully stomped over as I pulled a comb out of my jacket pocket. I quickly slipped the eye patch off, combed down his hair, adjusted every fold, tucked every edge, and within a minute he was respectable-looking.

He glared with that cerulean eye as I pulled his chair out from his desk and gestured him to sit. "No _massage_ this morning, Sebastian?"

I began to sit his breakfast in front of him as he plopped into his seat. "I hardly think that is appropriate at this time, seeing as how you should be refreshed this morning and I have no time to indulge you." So this _was _the reason for this short temper, I reasoned. Conflicting feelings had that effect on him, but addressing these matters had to wait.

I poured a cup and handed it to him. He looked at the teacup disdainfully. "I said I wanted three sugars."

"Young master, please forgive me for being outright, but you are being a little difficult this morning." I obliged him with plucking three cubes out of the sugar bowl and dropping them in his cup. I set the sugar tongs back on the trolley almost a little too forcefully.

Ciel clicked his tongue in frustration. "You splashed tea onto the saucer, you imbecile."

"My apologies." As I gave a bow I clenched my hands.

He turned away and waving his hand he chided, "Well, if you have such pressing matters, then leave me be and tend to them. I will call you when I'm done with my meal."

I was actually grateful to be dismissed so quickly, since there were quite a few chores that had not been seen to in preparation for Elizabeth's arrival. I instructed Mey-Rin to set new sheets on the bed in the lady's guest room and then dust the main parlor. I had Finny take the rugs from the parlor outside to beat the dust from them. Baldroy was instructed to start mixing ingredients for a sponge cake and a few custards, as well as pluck and dress a bird for the evening's meal (of course, I explicitly told him not to set anything in the oven). I had to ensure that everything was perfectly arranged for Elizabeth's stay; that every effort was made to enhance her special day with my young master.

Some would consider my efforts to be a little too over the top, but I knew just how important this occasion was to the Lady Elizabeth. On the other hand, Ciel had grown to truly detest the holiday and its implications. When he was younger, the boy tolerated his fiancée's affections. Over subsequent Valentine's Day celebrations, much to his chagrin, the cards became gaudier, the expectations rose higher, and the affections were all the more suffocating.

To make matters worse, the boy was hardly the romantic sort. Last year, Lady Elizabeth asked him, "Can I expect a new pair of gloves for Valentine's?" Being the boy who was ignorant of romantic English customs, he remarked that she probably had a pair for every Sunday until Pentecost. I thought the reply was quite witty, but I held back my laughter due to the tears brimming in Lady Elizabeth's eyes.

"Don't you know? You are supposed to give gloves to your true love on Valentine's Day as a marriage proposal. If she wears them on Easter Sunday, then she accepts!" The innocent girl explained.

My young master crossed his arms. "But I'm already engaged to you. Why would I want to participate in a commoner's custom?"

Lady Elizabeth burst into tears. "Ciel, you are just so impossible sometimes!" With that, she stormed out of the room.

Ever since that episode, the young master sought to placate the girl's expectations. Despite some of his more extravagant efforts, I could see that Ciel did not extend these gestures out of a deep romantic love for the young lady. Frankly, this dishonesty toward the girl was a little more than irritating to me. I cannot say my irritation was due to Ciel's dishonesty toward his fiancée, but rather his dishonesty with himself.

I sought to bring this fact to his attention in a most uncomfortable manner: by being a most perfect butler. So naturally, everything was in order by the time Elizabeth arrived, and fortunately the servants of the household did not majorly impede my efforts.

I opened her carriage door and extended my hand so that Lady Elizabeth could exit gracefully. As soon as both feet were on the ground she bounded towards her fiancé in her usual jubilant fashion. Ciel attempted to give his most charming smile despite his mounting anxiety over what the day could hold.

"Oh Ciel, I'm so happy to be spending Valentine's Day with you! You'll just love what I have for you!" Elizabeth held fast to the Earl's arm, looking at him adoringly.

I saw the color drain out of his face as he realized, _'I don't have a valentine for Lizzie!' _He glared in my direction quickly, so as not to alert the young lady of anything. As I walked past the two I gave him a quick wink, ensuring that I had everything under control.

I opened the door to the manor, slightly bowing as they entering. "Would tea in the parlor be sufficient?"

The two slowly made their way across the chessboard floor. "Oh, Elizabeth," Ciel spoke formally, "do you remember how much you enjoyed the trip to Paris last fall?"

"Yes, it was so very romantic. The French have a real eye for beauty, don't they?" Elizabeth replied.

"Well, it inspired me to have my main parlor redecorated for you to enjoy whenever you come to visit."

Elizabeth gasped as I opened the door to the parlor. It had been completely transformed from a dark, drab and austere parlor into a fanciful, Rococo-inspired salon, of sorts. Dark paneling had been replaced with white-washed molding, powder-blue walls and gilded rocaille-style ornamentation. The golden accents repeated themselves in the cornice around the ceiling, softening the linear planes of the room. Wainscot paneling also stretched around the length of the room, adding to the room's elegance. The light from the large French-style windows was amplified by large gilded mirrors that hung on the opposite wall. A quaint, romantic painting of a pastoral scene hung over the marble fireplace.

"This room is so precious!" She darted around the room to have a better look at the upholstery. The room was furnished with elaborately carved chairs and couches, upholstered in luxurious pastels. Side tables were adorned with brass figures and fresh lilies from the greenhouse. An elegant piano illuminated with hand-painted roses stood majestically in the corner. Every object was bulging with intricacy, curving into fanciful forms, and the Lady Elizabeth had to gaze upon the room's every facet. The room was a model of femininity.

"Ciel, I love this painting!" she exclaimed, pointed to the framed work above the fireplace. "Who is the artist?"

"Boucher," he replied, "and while I don't care much for the obscenity of a lot of his work, this one felt appropriate for the room." I could not help but smirk at the comment. The English are so very stuffy when it comes to their preferences. Even though the room was decorated in a very Rococo style, the earl's very Victorian sentiments would not allow him to ornament this room to a level the French would have desired in the previous century. It was a style of decadence and reverie, bordering on wanton excess. For propriety's sake, the young master decided it was best to tone it down in a most British manner. As a result, the room lacked a cohesion that was evident in true French Rococo.

Regardless, many of his associates who gazed upon the room found the decoration to be superfluous, old-fashioned and distastefully un-British. Ciel stood by his desire to make up a room for Elizabeth, at which point said-associates would gush at his romantic endeavors.

I stood next to the earl, who was handing back and allowing the lady to observe every corner and ornament of the room. I discreetly pulled a small trinket box out of my pocket and handed it to the boy. "I believe you left this upstairs, young master."

Immediately he understood the gesture, and a look of apprehension crept on the boy's face. I gave a faint smile, and I was certain he caught the mischievous glint in my eyes. "Sebastian," the boy ordered, "do you have tea prepared?"

"Most certainly, young master."

I bowed and made my way to the kitchen for my trolley. I had prepared all manner of treats for the couple, including a sponge cake layered with canned cherries from the previous season, a bakewell tart, and some dainty sandwiches. For tea, I found a most delicate jasmine and hibiscus tea that would pair with the sugary fare. I decided upon an elaborate silver kettle and floral tea set to match the ambience of the parlor.

I entered the room with my presentation of tea and Elizabeth squealed and clapped her hands at the display. While the girl was quickly maturing into a decorous young woman, there was no doubt that she would never lose her exuberance. The two sat on a delicate green couch in the center of the room.

"Now that the tea is here, I want to give you my valentine, Ciel." Elizabeth reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a small parcel, all trussed up in ribbons and bows. The boy gingerly accepted it and giving a faint smile, pulled at one of the ribbons to reveal a small frame. It contained an embroidered work: small love poem illuminated with flowers, densely stitched with vibrant thread. Its craftsmanship expressed all the care and devotion Elizabeth held for her betrothed. I poured tea for the lady and gently handed it to her. She accepted her cup but took no sip, anticipating Ciel's reaction.

"This is your work?" Ciel asked, apparently impressed. She nodded enthusiastically. "It's lovely, Elizabeth."

"Thank you! I've taken a liking to this craft. Mother said she wouldn't have me painting." She took a sip of her tea. "May I have another sugar, Sebastian?" I pleasantly obliged.

I handed the young master his tea, but he paid me no notice. "Is that so?" Elizabeth's gift was lightly placed on the table. Aside from giving his fiancée satisfaction, he had little interest in the trifle token itself.

She continued, "Yeah, something about how the current state of the arts is misguiding so many otherwise proper ladies."

"I wonder what aunt means by that, precisely."

The young lady turned to the painting. "Do you think it has something to do with obscenities?" She said the word with a twinge of intrigue. I cleared my throat. "Sebastian, would you know something on the matter?" Elizabeth asked politely.

"Yes, Francois Boucher, the artist who painted that," I pointed to the pastoral scene, "was a very successful painter, well known among the court of Louis XV. If you remember your history, you know the French aristocracy of the time was rich beyond anything imaginable, and this luxury did lead to over-indulgence and eventually a decay of morality." I lectured. Ciel rolled his eyes, but the girl was too interested in my explanation. "Some of his paintings were rather provocative, many of which were commissioned by various members of court."

I kneeled in closer, as if divulging a most scandalous piece of gossip. Elizabeth played along, in her girlish curiosity. "One such painting was a portrait of Marie-Louis O'Murphy, who was painted as lying prostrate over a—"

"That's enough, Sebastian," the young master barked. He took a sip of his tea casually. "You should know better than to speak of such things to a young lady. And if aunt hears of what her daughter is learning when she comes to visit…" Elizabeth giggled mischievously.

The young lady brought her attention back to the young earl. "Where's my valentine, Ciel?" She sat her teacup down on the gilded coffee table and held her hands in her lap in a most saccharine fashion.

Reluctantly, the young master pulled the pink satin box out of his breast pocket. He did not catch my devilish grin. I knew what the box contained, and he was foolish to hand her a trinket box of which he did not know its contents. Sometimes I think Ciel trusted me too implicitly.

Elizabeth took the gift a little too hurriedly than what was considered polite. She gasped upon opening it. "Oh Ciel!" Out of the box she pulled a love knot brooch, brilliantly delicate and of a fine karat. The young master's face drained of all color upon seeing it.

Ciel never gave any specification as to what kind of valentine Elizabeth should receive. He also never gave any instruction on how I might procure this gift. I remembered the small trinket box being locked away in a cabinet in some never-used room – along with a few other treasures he discovered at the house in London. They were belongings of his parents that he wanted to forget but could not bring himself to discard.

Ciel remembered the love knot being a present to Rachel; it was one of the first gifts his father gave to his mother. Angelina, the boy's late aunt, had recounted the story to Ciel that summer afternoon all those years ago.

Elizabeth probably knew nothing of the origins of the romantic finery, but she understood the implications of the gift. It was a token to express the deep and unshakeable love of the giver. By Ciel bestowing this love knot, he was essentially giving his heart to the young woman. Sure, it was a little old-fashioned, but the sentiment was by no means lost on that love sick girl.

The young woman lunged across the couch to grab her fiancé in a tight hug. "Lizzie, please –" My young master's eyes were wide with shock.

"I had always hoped you felt this way towards me!" Elizabeth looked up at Ciel, and he managed to mask his surprise at the young lady's forthcoming and indecent behavior.

_How are you going to play this one, young master?_ I wondered. He did not want to see Elizabeth wear that brooch; it was too closely associated with the memory of his mother. He could not take it back, nor could he take back the gesture of giving it to her. His only plausible course of action was to have his behavior be consistent with this gift. I questioned how successfully he could manage that.

Ciel patted the girl gently on the shoulder, and sat her upright on the couch, like a good gentleman would. "I feel like…" the boy stammered, trying to sort out his words, "It's difficult, Lizzie. You know, when one has a particular feeling, and he cannot help but be afraid of it." I busied myself with the tart, quietly setting a piece for each on the coffee table next to the now-forgotten tea.

I had the impression he was not referring to any feeling he had for his fiancée.

The young man continued, "I have lost too many I have cared for." Elizabeth stared into that watery blue eye, knowing she had touched on something very deep within him. In these moments, it was apparent that she found his intensity overwhelming, feeling as though she never had anything to say to match.

The young lady started slowly, "Are you saying you're afraid of the feelings you have for me because you don't want to lose me?" In response, the earl dramatically looked away, his lip quivering. _My goodness, he certainly knows how to put on a show when the occasion calls for it, _I thought. This action was merely a façade to convince Elizabeth of some highly tuned women's intuition.

Elizabeth reached out and tenderly touched the boy's face, a lady's touch swathed in lace. The gesture was nothing but compassionate, and understanding filled her eyes, suggesting that he did not need to say anything more. Ciel tried to soften to the gesture, but I felt him grappling with this hidden balancing act he was playing out for his fiancé.

"It pleases me that my gift makes you so happy, Lizzie."

"Everything you do for me pleases me," she replied softly. As if the intensity of the moment was getting to be too much, she immediately brightened, wanting to dispel all hint of melancholy from the occasion.

Pointing to the piano in the corner, she proclaimed, "I have been practicing, quite a bit. Would you like me to play for you, Ciel?"

The young earl grinned. "Most certainly."

She jumped up from the couch and skipped to the piano. She delicately lowered herself onto the bench, arranging the folds of her dress as a young woman learned in etiquette would. Demurely she pulled her gloves off, finger by finger and stored them in a skirt pocket. After testing a few of the keys, she announced most formally, "Today's selection is Schumann's Arabesque, opus eighteen in C major."

The melody started with a flutter of notes, the girl's ungloved hands deftly summoning the notes from the instrument.

Ciel gave his attention to the performance for a moment, before looking in my direction. He motioned me over. Placing a finger on my palm, I heard him speak quietly in the back of my mind, '_Do you understand what you did?'_

_ 'Are you referring to the valentine?'_

_ 'What else would I be referring to, you idiot?' _I could see the rage brimming in the boy.

_'In my opinion, young master, I believe it was a perfect idea. I am sorry you disagree.' _

He sighed. _'We'll discuss this later.' _

We both listened to Elizabeth give her private recital. The song was very suitable for her in some ways: controlled, feminine, fanciful at times, but with an underlying yearning. There were moments where the song swelled into a lively melody, and then drifted into deeper chords. She played the allegro with technical grace, but when the music shifted into its more melancholy passages her energy did not falter to meet them. When moments called for hesitation, to place emphasis on a pensive tone, she passed through them with the same fervor, thus failing to capture all the subtlety of the piece.

My young master gave only enough attention to be considered polite, but his thoughts here obviously elsewhere. In his mind, he tried to capture a facet of the song's story that he could attach to his own experiences and found the endeavor futile. Elizabeth's song only related to her own heartache, being as shallow and transient as the puddle after the storm.


	3. Chapter 3

**A Magnificent Depravity - Chapter 3**

* * *

Relieved was my young master when Elizabeth finally retired for the evening. Between the dancing and the dinner, Ciel was begging for a respite from the young lady's relentless attention.

"Oh my, it's been a long day, and I have to leave tomorrow," she yawned. The lady rose from the dinner table and her fiancé followed suit. "Goodnight, Ciel. Sweet dreams." She scuttled over to the earl and quickly embraced him before leaving for her personal guest room. Mey-Rin, standing by in the corner of the dining room accompanied her to see to the lady's needs. Elizabeth was not two feet outside before Ciel collapsed into his chair.

If tea that afternoon had not been enough of a trial, dinner proved to be the earl's true test in patience. The lady Elizabeth grew all the more affectionate as the afternoon progressed, culminating into an evening meal that even exceeded the girl's romantic expectations.

Quite impressive was the dining room display. The finest tablecloth was draped and in the center of the table a masterfully arranged centerpiece of orchids, crocuses, violets and snowdrop was on display. Ivory candles illuminated the dining area in rows of standing brass candelabras, polished to perfection. The finest china was laid for a four-course meal, its pinnacle being roast pheasant in an orange glaze.

It was almost too much romance for Lady Elizabeth to stand, and naturally her endearment bubbled over onto Ciel in a most humorous manner. She was incessant in her attempts to play with his feet under the table. She made every effort to hold his hand during the meal. Batting her eyelashes, she always tried to steer the conversation towards talk of weddings and marriage. Before dinner, Elizabeth wore her brooch and would not stop fawning over how well it matched her outfit. While I was thoroughly amused, my young master was to a point of desperation, and what little Chablis was left in the decanter was a proof of this. As a result, Ciel dug himself into a hole that he was unable to climb out of.

Between the main course and dessert, Elizabeth remarked, "You know, I was thinking, you haven't hosted a party in a long time, Ciel."

"Excuse me?"

She twisted her fingers in trepidation. "I mean, when was the last time you've thrown a ball? If there's ever a time to start thinking about such things, now would be it. The season for it always creeps up out of nowhere, don't you agree?" It is not as though the boy could deny any request made this young woman.

Ciel took a sip of his wine, and the glass was quickly filled by Mey-Rin. I scowled her, communicating that he had enough. Slinking back, her face flushed. The boy replied, "Are you suggesting I host a party just because you want one?" Oh dear, I thought, the young master was growing too brash for all the wine he was drinking that evening.

"Not in the slightest! You can make it a charity ball, and the money for admission will be for a worthy cause," She responded urgently.

"Wow, Lizzie, that's actually a good idea," the earl stated, as though her novel ideas were a rare occurrence. "I tell you what. " He took another swallow of wine. "I will contact the Queen about this and ask if there is a cause she feels is in of need of phil… philanthropy." That last word sounded a little too difficult for the master.

"Really? Oh Ciel!" The young woman was positively beside herself.

Now that she had vacated the room, my young master sat solitary at the table, the consequence of his words slowly seeping into his mildly intoxicated mind. Ciel does not do well with parties, and now he was obligated to prepare for one in the coming season. Motioning to the table, he ordered, "Sebastian, have Baldroy clean this up. I'll be in my smoking lounge. Bring the brandy."

"Yes, my lord." As if he needs more alcohol, I contemplated.

The lounge was a small room off of the billiard room, adjacent to a cozy parlor complete with a wet bar. Young master would frequent it to unwind after particularly trying days. While I considered it a filthy habit, tobacco had the effect of calming an otherwise short-tempered boy.

I anticipated the brandy would make him even more agreeable.

I made a quick trip to the kitchen to give my orders to Baldroy and Finnian, and then to the bar I went. I procured the 1834 vintage, stored in a glass decanter and I carried this with a small cordial glass for brandy. Ciel was sitting in his velvet burgundy chair, a lamp next to him on the side table. He took a pinch of tobacco out of the glass jar sitting nearby and tamped it into his pipe, a very fine James Upshall. Deftly, he lit a match and puffed before waving the stick out and disposing of it in the ashtray.

I poured his glass. "Your brandy, young master." He swirled the dark amber liquid, taking in its thick scent, and took a sip. For a moment he was silent, placing the tip of the pipe in his mouth, slowly inhaling, pausing, followed by another sip. His right elbow leaned on the arm of his chair, lazily holding the pipe at the bowl. As he clutched at the glass of brandy, he stared at a fixed point on the dark paneling of the wall, his eye unfocused, reflecting the many thoughts crowding his mind.

"Would you like me to leave you to your privacy?" I inquired.

"No." I would be lying if I did not consider this an invitation to pry.

He turned his attention to me as I stood idly in the corner of the room. "Sebastian, sit." He gestured to the chair across from him and I obliged. Surely whatever he wanted to discuss would involve his irritation with me.

"Young master, may I inquire as to why you are so tense?" I offered gently.

"Don't play dumb with me." He took a puff of his pipe. "I'm pissed."

"So am I to conclude that you are angry with me?"

Ciel nearly spilt his brandy. "Of course I'm angry with you! What were you thinking with that Valentine for Elizabeth? I want to know, and do not skirt around the matter. I have no patience for your schemes right now." The boy took another drag off his pipe. A slight haze was beginning to fill the dimly lit room.

I did not much care for the master's smoking habit because the smell got in his clothes, his hair, his skin. I preferred he did not smell like ash.

"Well, master, it is rather simple," I explained. "I needed to procure a gift that could compensate for your lack of interest in the young lady." In response, he took another sip of brandy. "To be honest, you really do not give her much affection at all."

"So what if I don't?"

I leaned back, a reaction to the boy's defensive remark. "Well, she is your fiancée," I replied.

He countered, "Well, a gentleman should not be so overbearing in his affections."

"It is one thing to be reserved in one's affections, but you, on the other hand, are plainly aloof." He glared at me with a heavily lidded eye. "More brandy?"

The glass was silently held out to me. Grasping it, I rose and filled it from the decanter sitting on a tray in the corner. "Sit it on the table," He ordered as I offered him the glass. He inhaled from his pipe once more before setting it on the rest of the ashtray. He grabbed another pipe from the petite pipe rack next to his lamp. With this fresh pipe he repeated the same series of motions, filling and lighting it with the automaticity only seen in a smoker. Ciel propped his feet on a cushioned ottoman in front of the chair.

"Are you comfortable, young master?" I inquired.

"Well enough," he muttered. He reached for his glass and drank a little more deeply. "I think you should be aware that my feelings and the motives behind my actions toward Elizabeth are really none of your business."

Standing over him, I gestured humbly. "I apologize if I gave the impression that I was prying into your relationship with Elizabeth." I leaned forward so I was certain that he caught the glint of my eyes in the subdued lamp light. "I personally have no interest in how you engage the young woman, but I am interested in why you would insist on being dishonest with yourself."

"I beg your pardon?"

I placed my hands on the arm rests of his chair and leaned over him, his personal space being encroached. "Surely your lack of affection toward Elizabeth is not the problem but rather a symptom of something far greater that is causing you distress." I could smell the brandy and tobacco in the boy's accelerated breath.

Ciel shifted uncomfortably, feeling the pressure of my intense gaze. I queried, "Is young master hiding something? Is the secret so shameful that he would even hide it from himself?" Of course I was hinting at his act of self-alleviation the night before, but I would not dare to suggest I knew of it.

"Do not lecture me on the subject of shame, Sebastian." Acting casually, he inhaled from his pipe and blew the smoke in my face. Wisps curled from his lips as he spoke, "It is bad form to speak of things you know nothing about."

"So you are suggesting that you could enlighten me on the subject?"

Ciel gazed into the flame of the oil lamp, averting his eye from me. For once he did not have some quip to counter with. That solitary cobalt eye glazed over, and into that same deep place of longing, his mind began to tread. He licked his lips in concentration, attempting to determine just what emotions were safe, and which were not. What would he allow himself to admit and what was too dangerous to divulge?

I took the glass from his trembling hand. "Perhaps you would like one more glass?"

Young master did not need any more; I could see the lack of focus in the boy's vision and the flush on his cheeks. The brandy compounded with the wine from earlier would surely lead to a painful morning for Ciel. No matter; the next day's schedule was clear, aside from seeing off Elizabeth after brunch. Oh my, I thought, it would take a great effort to clean up this boy so she would not suspect anything.

"Young master?" I brought his attention back to me, still towering over his small frame.

"Yes, more brandy, please."

"How very polite, young master."

I straightened and went to fill his glass. The boy reached for his first pipe, checking to see if it had cooled. After emptying the contents of the bowl in the tray, he pulled off the stem. I handed him his glass, and he quickly took a deep swallow before setting the glass on the table. From a small pouch next to his pipe collection, he took a pipe cleaner, dipped it in his brandy glass, and ran it through the length of the pipe stem.

Honestly, only a wealthy noble would use some of his best brandy to clean his most expensive pipes. For some reason, the young master would prefer this chore himself, as though there is a meditative component to the act.

I decided to sit back down in the chair across from him. After a moment of silent pipe cleaning, Ciel set down his work and confessed, "I know I said it was not your business, but," he took a drag of his still-lit pipe, "you are right, Sebastian. I hate having to admit it. I care for my fiancée; that has never changed. She's family. But I feel no deep desire for her."

"You hate to admit that you feel no passion for Elizabeth."

"No, it's admitting that you are right in your observations."

I could not stifle a chuckle. It was always a matter of pride with the boy. He bristled in anger at my finding amusement at his expense. In response, he picked up his glass and threw its remaining contents at me.

The strong-scented liquid soaked into the wool coat - and stained the pristine white shirt underneath. I quickly suppressed the brimming irritation in me, and murmured, "Well, that was rude."

Glowering at me, he rose and quickly realized such an action was a bad idea after too much to drink. "Damn it—" Ciel clutched at the chair, barely catching himself from staggering to the side.

"Oh dear, young master, you are in quite a state." I rose to hold up the boy.

"You're one to talk, Sebastian. You're a mess," he chuckled. This was most unusual for the young master, but spirits would have that effect.

"Would you dismiss me so I may clean myself, which I should mention, is a result of your outburst?"

Ciel shook his head in response, which he immediately learned was not a good idea either. I led the boy to the couch against the wall. "Lie here and I will fetch you a glass of water."

"No, really, I'm all right, just…"

"…just inebriated." I finished his sentence.

"Oh, to hell with you." Young master rubbed his temples, staring at the ceiling. "Sebastian, get these shoes off me."

"Yes, my lord."

I pulled the ottoman close to the couch and proceeded to unfasten the buckles of his shoes. He had scuffed the side of one from stumbling to the couch. I would have to polish them again, after all. This was the opportunity I was waiting for. After placing the heeled shoes neatly to the side, I decided it was only fitting to rid him of his stockings as well.

"I didn't ask you to take off _those_," he rebuked.

I decided now would be a good time to play games. "But you looked flushed, young master," I cosseted. Perhaps he caught the quality in my remark, and my devious smirk as I pulled off my gloves. "Besides, I could not indulge you earlier, but I believe that circumstances allow me this now."

"And what circumstances are those?"

"Little lord, the manner is quiet, I have no pressing matters, and to be honest, you are quite helpless."

Ciel scoffed, "So you feel inclined to take advantage of that."

I took one of his feet into my bare hands and pressed a thumb into the arch. "Young master, I believe there is a small part of you that wishes for it." He attempted to bolt upright, but that only made him feel more disoriented. "Please relax, young master. I know your feet must be sore after wearing those shoes all day," I purred.

He drawled, "This is completely unnecessary."

I continued to knead the thick flesh. "And yet you are not protesting." Ciel relented, relaxing into the couch. I worked a finger between each toe, gently stretching his foot forward and back, around. I squeezed behind the ankle and the boy sighed. His head drifted to the side, his breathing relaxed. I marveled how such sinister hands could bring young master such satisfaction.

"Hmmm… Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"This is kind of nice."

Lowering one foot, I gingerly picked up the other. "So you are enjoying this?"

"Okay, maybe a bit, but it's a little strange." Young master gave a small moan as I began to massage into the other heel.

I lightly stroked the top of his foot with my dark nails. "I wonder, would Elizabeth do something like this for you?"

He laughed. "She probably thinks feet are not cute."

I gazed at my master, his eye closed, hands comfortably folded over his torso. Having him in this vulnerable position was too tempting to not exploit. "Young master, you have very attractive feet."

With that, I planted a kiss on his arch, and the boy gasped. His eye shot open and the flush on his face grew deeper.

"Does young master enjoy that too?" I continued the gesture, locking my gaze with his. I lightly bit onto his big toe and he jerked. He attempted to stifle a small yelp, his hand reaching for his mouth, those lips shaped into an O. "I think he does like it," I whispered.

"You cursed devil," he swore from behind his hand.

"Too right."

I traced my tongue along the contour of that perfect arch, resting my lips at the ball of his foot. I savored the taste of his skin, infused with the bane residing in him. If this could be an indication of what his soul would consist of… The boy shuddered, and the young master's panting was a symphony to my ears.

I encircled his big toe in my mouth, my tongue winding around it. The boy's hips dug into the couch. Up his calves my fingers lightly crept. The hand that was covering his mouth before found its way to his neck where the young man proceeded to loosen his tie. With the other he grasped at his shirt, pulling it free from the band of his shorts. As I lapped at those curled toes, my young master moaned deeply, and I could tell how he parted his knees, how he swiveled his hips, how he leaned his head back… this was more than pleasurable for him. A heat was stirring in him, his desire intensifying. He could have more; I would give it to him.

What was most surprising to me was I felt myself wanting to engage in this pleasure as well.

"You still have not answered my question, young master." His calves were cupped in my hands and I quickly nipped at one of his knees.

"Nnn… ah… what was the question?" Ciel was drunk on more than alcohol it seemed. He pulled at the buttons of his shirt.

"Actually, I want to amend my question." My tongue ran down his leg and his fingers dug into the couch, his body turning into a quivering mess. "Do you think Elizabeth _could _do this for you?"

Panting slightly, he replied, "I don't want to think about her right now."

I rose from the ottoman onto the velvet couch, knees digging into the cushions as I held the boy's feet aloft. This position would grant me wonderful access to his rear, I thought. My tongue licked the length of his left foot, pressing greedily. I positioned his right on my shoulder, my left hand on the underside of his thigh. I could smell his lust, underneath his ashy scent. The boy's back arched and his breath was heavy. The blush began to rise on his chest beneath a now-unbuttoned shirt. His hands crept dangerously close to his hips, and I could see a bulge in his pants. My eyes glazed over, vision growing red; I could ravage this boy—

"Sebastian, stop!" I froze. Ciel gasped and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Get off me."

Immediately I stood and stepped back from the couch. Oh dear, I thought, I over did it. To my relief, the young master was not infuriated; anything but. He sat up, cradling his head in his hands. "I have to go to bed."

"Let me assist you."

"I'll make my way myself," he insisted as he unsteadily pushed himself from the couch. He stumbled to the door, the spirits still having its effect on him.

I stepped forward and took his arm. "Please allow me—" He slapped my hand away.

"I don't need you to carry me to my room!" Ciel barked. "Clean this room up. My pipes need a good cleaning too, all of them. And put your damn gloves back on."

I reached into my pocket where I had stored my gloves. "Yes, my lord."

I did not want the young man hurting himself on his way to his room, but I sensed he managed well enough. I returned the decanter to the bar, and began arranging the room.

As I was cleaning the pipes as I was told, I heard the boy's moaning in the back of my mind, urgent and wanting. His heart beat accelerated, his body shuddering as he tended to the arousal that I incited in him only moments before. I could see him on the bed, propped on his elbows and knees, his trousers open as he pumped himself and panting, cursing me, cursing him, his free hand clutching at the sheets…


	4. Chapter 4

**A Magnificent Depravity -Chapter 4**

* * *

Upon entering his quarters the next morning, I found the young master lying on his stomach, the linens of his bed tangled around his person. Not bothering to change into his night clothes, he had fallen asleep in yesterday's garb. Judging from his dreadful state, I knew this would be a difficult day for Ciel.

"Young master, it is time for you to get up." He did not respond. I proceeded to the window where I opened the curtains, flooding the room with morning light. A most pitiable groan erupted from the pillow at his realization of a new day and among the crumpled sheets the little lord feebly attempted to hide.

"Sebastian," he croaked, "Close that blasted curtain." I obliged.

"You must get up, for Lady Elizabeth will be attending brunch shortly, and you have little time to make yourself presentable."

"I couldn't give a damn about brunch." I felt it best to ignore his remark.

As Ciel rolled over I noticed the front of his shorts were unbuttoned, a reminder of his lustful actions of the previous night. Did the boy fall asleep shortly after he serviced himself? It was evident that after his climax, he did not even consider cleaning himself up and putting on proper night clothes I decided for the moment that these issues were largely irrelevant when the young master's appearance was first priority.

I had come to the bedroom with a fresh-pressed outfit for the young master, something comfortable and unrestricted. I was anticipating the boy to be out of sorts that morning and I was willing to provide as much assistance as needed to ensure his fiancée would not suspect any outrageous deviation in the boy's behavior. I laid the outfit on the bed next to him and pulled him upright. His head tilted back as if the strain of carrying his own weight was too much of a demand on his shoulders.

He moaned, "My head is pounding."

"I assure you that after I set you right a cup of tea will shortly follow." As I unbuttoned his shirt I sensed his heady scent, a subtle remnant from the night before. "First, you need to wash."

Even as he held his face in his hands, I could see the slight rose on his cheeks. "I do not think that will be necessary."

I lifted his head up and untied the eye patch. "Young master, you smell of brandy." Among other things, I silently jested. I proceeded to free him from his shirt. I instructed him to lift his arms as I pulled off his undershirt, and he immediately brought his arms down to cover his chest.

"Are you cold, young master?" When he didn't respond, I commented, "I am willing to accommodate my young master in any way necessary."

"Just shut up and make me presentable for Elizabeth."

"Yes, my lord." I stood him up to remove his shorts.

I rolled up my sleeves, but thought it best to leave on my gloves. While it was slightly tempting to indulge myself, this was no time to take advantage of the boy's vulnerability. I led him into his private bathroom where a wash basin of warm water waited. Let us get through this quickly, I thought.

Ciel kept his eyes downcast. While one could say it the light that was exacerbating his migraine, I knew he did not want me to see the shame written on his face. He could smell his own sex, and so he very well knew I was sensing the same.

I worked with the calm indifference of a butler, remaining silent as I trailed a wash cloth over his goose pimpled flesh. Even though I worked quickly, my gloved hands were enough to bring a blush to the boy's face. Ciel stared in the corner of the tiled floor as a means of ignoring his growing arousal.

My washcloth migrated down his back to his rear and young master gasped. "Sebastian, that's enough, I really think I can finish washing myself. Turn around; I don't want you looking at me." A brief look of surprise was quickly dispelled as I turned around and gave Ciel his space. He calmed his labored breathing, now free to wash his lower half. I listened to the water trickle in the basin as he wet the cloth. The air was thick, and I could not help but stiffen from this oppressive tension.

"Hand me a towel." I did so, and the boy turned from me as he dried himself. I took this opportunity to change my gloves and fetched a fresh pair of underclothes from his armoire in the adjacent dressing room. Shivering, Ciel modestly held a towel before him – I matter-of-factly grabbed it from him. I could not dress the boy if he was cowering like some prudish gentile. I kneeled before him as he stiffly stepped into his breeches, his hand resting on my shoulder for support. Despite young master's arousal, I refrained from staring at his crotch.

A loose-fitting top with billowing sleeves seemed an appropriate choice for today. Sure, such a fashion was outmoded, but it was not as though the earl had to impress anyone other than Elizabeth. She would think of it as "cute." Ciel stepped into his proper shorts, and his hands curled into fists as I tucked in his shirt, having to reach under the band of his pants to do so. A thick wool vest completed the outfit. I retrieved his comb from the vanity and set his hair right before returning his eye patch. He silently sat as I rolled the stockings up his pale legs. Even for a boy his age, he was still a very lithe creature, having little mass in his calves. In heeled shoes, I dressed his feet with grace and reverence, treatment much deserved by my keep.

He looked down at me, kneeling before him, with severe cobalt, a gaze that could cut as harshly as ice. I was a detestable thing to him, a paradigm of all things unholy and removed from glory. Beneath this loathing, the flame simmered, and his desire to reach for it made my young master loathe himself even more. I gave a cheerful grin and he sneered in response.

"I would really appreciate that cup of tea right about now, Sebastian."

"Tanaka is serving tea down stairs, my young lord."

Ciel groaned, resting his elbow on the chair as he cradled the side of his head. "Fine. Damn it." He rises with a heavy sigh.

Brunch, being held in the sunroom toward the rear of the manor, was a trial for the young master. I had prepared pancakes with boysenberry preserves and potato quiche, and the boy could barely stomach it. Elizabeth, who was happily enjoying brunch, inquired to his reason for not eating.

"Oh, the food from last night was too rich, and it made my sleep most uncomfortable," young master lied.

Perhaps it was too cruel to have brunch in a room filled with windows, which happily let the sun light stream in from all sides. Despite the barrenness of the English garden, the sky shown with a cheerfulness uncharacteristic for the season. It only exacerbated the poor master's nausea. As soon as he had partaken of just enough to be polite, he graciously excused himself from the table, leaving a dejected Lady Elizabeth by her lonesome.

She peered up at me, the ruffles of her traveling bonnet framing her angelic face. Gently, I commented, "If I may, my lady, you appear to be troubled."

She casted her sight downward. "No, it's silly, really."

"I am not so sure, young miss. If you are troubled, that is reason enough for my concern." I placed my hand to my chest. "After all, as the young master's fiancée, I am just as much of a butler to you as I am to him."

From Lady Elizabeth's perspective, this was a true enough statement. From my perspective, I am not required to extend any sort of loyalty to this pure soul due to some trivial, human obligation between the pair. It would benefit me if I would have her believe such a thing, I considered. "I most humbly assure you, anything you wish to divulge will be kept in confidence, my lady."

The young woman wrung her hands in her lap. "It's just... something seems amiss with Ciel this morning, like he had no interest in me. He seemed more than ill; His mind was elsewhere, and I can't help but think that this has something to do with me..."

"May I sit?" I gestured to the chair.

"Oh! Please."

It was my responsibility to ensure that Lady Elizabeth's suspicions were dispelled, seeing as how Ciel was in no condition to put on a convincible mask that day. Sitting as an equal, if only a moment, would give the impression that she could be on the level with me. While this gesture was a deviation from certain proprieties, Elizabeth in her fanciful manner would not adhere to them if they did not suit her.

I sat most upright, a leg crossed over the other. "You are correct, my lady, the young master is indeed off today, and I sincerely apologize for his behavior. Please understand there is a lot resting on his shoulders at any given time. The stress of it preoccupies his mind."

"Sebastian, if Ciel is bothered by something I might have done, would you tell me?" Why is it that women believe all matters must revolve around them?

I concealed this thought with a polite smile. "I can assure you that my lady has done nothing to offend the master."

"Then perhaps it is something I don't do." She nearly whispered. A concern knit her brows, and I realized in that moment that this lady was indeed maturing into a young woman. This included all the passions and yearnings a young woman would naturally possess, despite what restrictions were placed on her out of some flimsy sense of decency. Of course, while she would never admit to it, her increased heartbeat, the scent of sweat on her palms, and the dilated pupils of her eyes spoke clearly of her emotions.

"The young master does go out of his way to please you, quite happily, in fact."

"Yes, and I'm always grateful for these gestures," she spoke urgently, "but there's something missing. I cannot say what it is that I want from him, especially when he already does so much for me."

What should I suggest? I wondered. She wants him to return the passion that she so often feels for him, but to outright suggest such a thing would come off as indecent. I laced my fingers, looking intently at Elizabeth. Yes, I understood the situation well enough, and it was time for me to find a way to compel her to drop the matter. Young master does not need her troubles to further complicate the issues plaguing his state of mind.

"My lady, the young master is a very proper gentleman, and has spoken to me on his feelings for you. When it comes to the engagement, your honor is his first priority, and your happiness his second." The young woman could interpret "feelings" in which ever manner she chose, for all I cared. "I can empathize with your trouble, and I think it is valid to feel as you do." At this statement, she perked up. Women are rarely given permission to be free in their thinking. "But I implore you, my lady; please continue to be patient with him. I can assure you that your sense of decorum is what he finds most beautiful. Any man would be eager to be wed to a young lady such as yourself."

This innocent, endearing young woman still had the look of a child as I saw her eyes glisten with a sense of appreciation. Even at the age of sixteen she had the look of a china doll, rosy lips pressed into a restrained smile, her blonde curls bouncing as her shoulders shook to hold back her emotion. This passionate girl hardly had the will to contain herself, and to watch her try was a heart-wrenching sight. It was no wonder Ciel always felt so much guilt about her unrequited affections; he had to always endure seeing the effects of it.

She stood up, and I followed suit. "Thank you very much, Sebastian." A single tear fell down her cheek, and she quickly patted it away with her handkerchief that was tucked in her sleeve. "Would it be unbecoming of me if I were to tell you just how trusting I am of you?"

How her level of innocence never ceased to astound me. "I am flattered, my lady."

She closed the space between us and embraced me, a gesture of sweetness that someone such as myself is not at all accustomed to. This girl poured love and compassion into all of her actions, wishing only to fill her world with this feeling. It takes a particular type of strength to continue such an outpouring of love in a place filled with so much despondency. Yet she was determined in this pursuit, and it made me wonder just how long she could continue this until she had no more left to give. What would cause this doll of a woman to shatter? Thoughts such as these kept me preoccupied as I endured this gesture from her which I found so detestable.

She stepped back, looking rather cheerful. "I do believe that I should be getting ready to leave for home. Would you send up Mey-Rin to help me prepare my things?"

I bowed, "Yes, my lady. Also, I shall see that Finnian packs the carriage."

* * *

"You'll be sure to keep your valentine close, yes?" Elizabeth asked her fiancé with a cherub expression.

Young master looked perplexed for a moment, and then remembering yesterday's events, replied, "Oh, yes, of course." Her crafted love note was still in the parlor. It was apparent to me that he had not given the poem any sort of thought.

The young lady took the boy's delicate, cold hands in hers. "I wanted to ask you earlier, but would you allow me to come and see you again soon? Perhaps next month? It would mean ever so much to me."

"Of course." He managed a smile, but from the way he shifted from one foot to the next, I knew that he desired his solitude. "I promise your visit next month will be even better. Hopefully the weather might be more cheerful. We can ride the horses out. The gardens will start to show their green again."

"I would enjoy that."

Elizabeth released her hands and wrapped her arms around the boy's shoulders. Ciel relented, mimicking the gesture, and the girl's embrace tightened. For a brief moment, she pulled back and their eyes met. While the young lady wished to lock eyes and fall into his gaze, the boy simply could not help but focus his sight beyond the confines of her hug.

Perhaps in that moment she was hurt by his subtle gesture. She might have interpreted it as Ciel just being Ciel. Either way, a precious smile adorned her bright face, and she bounded to the carriage, not bothering to take the assistance from the foot man standing by.

"Goodbye, Ciel! Please write to me this week!"

"I will, Lizzie. Safe travels." She replied with a tinkling laugh.

Ciel heaved a sigh of relief as he watched Elizabeth's carriage pull away from the house, leaving plums of dust in its stead. I stood by the door, trying not to appear voyeuristic, even if I was watching their brief exchange before her departure. When the carriage turned a bend and Ciel could no longer see it, he slowly trudged across the drive and up the stairs.

"Sebastian, bring tea to my study." His features were hardened, and any attempts from me to pry would only cause him further frustration.

I bowed. "Very well, young master."

Many of our exchanges over the past few days were similar to this; Young master would give a clipped order and expect my immediate obedience. I could tell this was his way of reestablishing a sense of control over the matters that clouded his mind. During this brief period of simple exchanges and awkward silences, I had plenty of opportunity to ponder over Ciel's attraction to me.

Despite his aloof disposition I could sense him cradling a longing. All it took was a simple gesture, an ambiguous statement, or a sly grin, to fan the flames. I would hand him a cup of tea, our eyes meeting for a brief moment and a surge of heat would cause his heart to palpitate. On one particular occasion my eyes flashed before him as I was taking a plate from the dinner table. He quickly excused himself and insisted on forgoing his gateau for the evening, a most uncharacteristic behavior of the young master, indeed.

As I continued to play these subtle games with my young master, I found myself delighting in the prospect of him finally cracking under the pressure and giving in to his want. It was not going to extinguish itself, and no matter how hard he tried to quell it. It was most amusing to further aggravate his inner conflict. At nights, I felt the boy pleasuring himself, trying to stifle his groaning from the release of pent up frustration. He would collapse in exhaustion, only to wake in the morning and have the same feelings resurface. Surely he didn't believe that his lust was some sort of ailment that simply needed to be purged from the body? Victorian sentiments would have one believe that simply ignoring a thing can make it go away, but I know that repression of desire is the very thing that fuels it. Is that not how lust works? His ever-growing frustration at futile attempting to shake off these feelings was too comical.

Thinking back to our exchange in the smoking room, I decided to wholeheartedly acknowledge that I too had found pleasure in it. The boy's scent was tinged with corruption. This flavor was even more evident in his skin, as though his sinister nature seeped from his pores. The beauty of it was that the boy's willfulness allowed him to maintain a comely and pleasing disposition. So few would ever be privy to the boy's true nature. This exotic occurrence, so rarely seen in humanity, was my entire reason for desiring the boy's soul so fully. Even still, to have but a small hint of that unwholesomeness, like an appetizer before the meal, was reason enough for my wanting to give in to my own pleasure. Even still, I decided not to push the matter. The young master would crumble under the pressure of his own want in time.

I busied myself with maintaining order in the manor, keeping the other servants too preoccupied to notice Ciel's odd behavior. If there was ever any sort of question, I could simply say that Ciel was immersed in his work, which was true. He kept himself cloistered in his study much of the time: making his correspondence calls with various factory managers, ensuring distribution of goods was in order for the upcoming season, balancing accounts. The young earl felt the necessary work was extraordinarily tedious, and would have to seek some respite from it.

The violin was a means for the young master to find some relief from the strain of business negotiations. Under my tutelage, I encouraged this one pursuit. Dancing was an utter failure. His attempt at painting was laughable. Even the piano proved too much for him. Despite clumsy fingers (because he seemed to be clumsy in just about anything artful) but the violin was so much more approachable for a boy of his nature. It is a unique instrument in that its strings will resonate with a player's disposition.

I was polishing the silver one afternoon when it became apparent that the young master achieved the ability to channel his feelings through such an instrument. From his private parlor I heard a sonorous note rip through the air, melancholy and yearning. At moments when his bow stilled in pensive hesitation, the air quivered. The somber melody rang strongly, with tones that felt as if they were pushed out rather than coaxed out of the instrument. This action would have felt abrasive, if not for the sorrow imbued in every facet of this sonata.

The silver can wait, I considered. I simply could not pass this opportunity.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Magnificent Depravity - Chapter 5**

* * *

I crept into the young master's private parlor, staying to the shadows cast by a large oak cabinet. Ciel stood by the window where the light was just enough to read clearly the sheet music on the stand. His focus was hardly on the printed notes in front of him. His face was taut with concentration, the look of a frustrated musician attempting to imbue his art with all the nuances of his longing and confusion. A steady stream of yearning, pleading melodies wailed from the instrument, shoved with a slightly bitter urgency. As he moved the bow across the strings he swayed into the swell – pressing into the rhythm of his song with melancholy and desperation. The movement was sensual, and he cradled that instrument as if it were the only thing that could console him.

I leaned against the cabinet, smelling dust, oil and antiquity from the patina of the cabinet's doors. The room contained an eclectic mix of Tudor-style furniture, such tastes suiting the young earl. Benches lined the walls, squat and stiff, ornamented with linen fold motifs. Cabinets with ornately carved acanthus were used to house the young master's games, for this parlor was where he would take clients for chess. The table in the center was fit with elaborate legs strutting vertically. Accompanying it were two matching straight-backed chair decorated with yew inlay – a rare find indeed. Despite the room being warmly outfitted with tapestries hung from the walls, or the bright hues of the carpets, the room held a cold severity. The imposing oak furniture with all its elaborate carving and inlays added to this intimidation.

The young master's song only amplified the oppressive atmosphere. The string of his instrument vibrated with such a severity that the air itself felt as though it would snap from the pressure. His body trembled, for he could barely control his fingers with the upsurge of passion the song elicited. I saw his hands shake as he momentarily stilled, before plunging into the conclusion of the sonata. The descent drifted softly, and Ciel let out that final note with a stifled release before the resonance faded into vacuous silence.

My gloved applause tore through the stillness that hung in the space, causing the boy to jerk out of his daze. A scowl slowly formed on his face as he eyed me with all the suspicion that I rightfully deserved. "Goodness, young master, surely I did not teach you how to play with such feeling."

"You're right," he replied acidly, "because what would you know of the matter?"

I stalked over to where he stood rigid by the window. "I am capable of a great deal more than what you would give me credit for. Surely you are aware of my abilities." I gestured to the violin. "If I may, young master?" I pulled off the gloves as he begrudgingly handed me the petite instrument, capable of such a sonorous voice. As I went to tuck the chin rest to the right, I immediately noticed something was amiss. "It appears it would be impossible for me to play left-handed."

"Of course, you idiot."

I switched the neck of the violin from my right to my left. I reached for the bow with my right. "A left-handed instrument requires more than restringing the instrument. The violin must be constructed as though it were a mirror image of the standard, to properly reflect its unique acoustics. It is no wonder you have never heard me _truly _play." I strung out a few clipped notes, the melodies dancing together deviously. "I can mimic the motions of a proper gentleman well enough, but if I were to play in a sinister fashion as my nature would prefer, I just may surprise you for once, young master." The violin sang under my touch, fingers dancing over her neck. I ended the melody with a trill of ecstasy – if I could wind this song _a sinistra, _it would have had the desired effect.

Ciel turned away. "I never considered that."

"That I can play with feeling?"

"No, the being left-handed was such an aberration."

I placed the violin back in its case that sat on a low bench under the window. "I know I have heard your melody somewhere, young master. Is it Italian, perchance? Paganini?"

"Yes, his sixth sonata." He folded his arms in his usual irritated fashion. "Surely you did not come in here to make conversation. I'm in no mood for it."

I placed my adorned hand on my chest and bowed slightly. "Do pardon me, my lord. I only wished to compliment you on your playing. I can only assume that the increased ability in your talent is the result of a fundamental change in your disposition." My eyes flashed. "Someone who plays with such passion is surely in possession of said-emotion. Or am I being too presumptuous?"

Ciel stalked over to one of his chairs and gripped the back of it with sweaty palms. "I do not wish to play games with you."

"Then perhaps you are interested in playing this sonata as it is meant to be played? As a duet?" I gestured to the Spanish guitar standing in the corner. "You may find an accompaniment will enhance the potency of this piece." My grin was devilish.

His heart sped, causing a blush to rise on his cheeks. "I told you; how many ways do I have to say it? I am in no jovial mood!"

"I wholeheartedly feel the same, young master. Perhaps we should focus on more serious matters?" I walked behind him, probably too close for comfort.

He turned and stared into my eyes which were lit with obvious flirtation. "You are out of line, Sebastian."

"And what about you, young master?" I slipped an arm around his waist. "A seemingly reserved, well-mannered individual such as yourself would never be able to play as you do." My voice took on the smooth, husky resonance that I knew would trap him. I turned his body to face mind. "Pray tell, how did you feel with that violin in your skillful, urgent hands?" I lifted his right hand into my left, clearly insinuating that I had the fullest intention to take the lead.

"Quit this farce," he commanded, attempting to push me away.

I pressed his slender frame against mine. His breath hitched, my face inches from his. He smelled of bergamot and sex. "Very well, I will be level with you. It is apparent that you are battling a few desires and are too proud to just succumb to them."

"What the hell are you getting at?" He pushed himself out of my grip. "You know, I'm sick of all of your implied suggestions, your inappropriate advances. It's just…" he began to breathe heavy and held his head as his fingers pulled at the hair that swung over his face. Staggering to the bench by the window, he leaned as if in desperation for some unyielding foundation to grasp.

I took a step forward. "Look at you; you can barely contain your distress." I leaned in close and lifted the boy's chin to make sure he could see my eyes blazing in the setting light. "Why not ask for my assistance?"

"What you imply sickens me, devil," he spat as he slapped my decorated hand away.

"And what of the actions you perform on yourself, young master?" I whispered into his ear. My breath alone was enough to cause that lobe to blush. "Do you think I am oblivious to how urgently this desire pulls at you? I can hear you in the night, panting, groaning, the pleasure rising, and all the while you cannot stop thinking of me." I pressed my nose to his soft hair, taking in the soft scent as he remained motionless. "You hate to admit it to yourself – and you have the audacity to think of me as sick.

"I would never lie to you," I continued as I curled my arms around his chest, possessively. I could feel him slipping; racing was his mind as he made a small consideration. "I must question why you would want to lie to yourself." He tried to pull away, but I would not allow him to "quit this farce" as he had commanded. "Look at you. With the simplest order you could release yourself from my grip; yet you remain silent."

He spun around and desperation shone in his azure eye. "But do you not understand that I can't?!" he shouted. "Why must you toy with me, Sebastian?" The young man stopped resisting and I felt the weight of him, as though the release of the self-imposed torment was exhausting. "There is no command I could say that could free me. There is no resolution to this predicament. The worst part is, if I could get away from you, I don't think I would want to."

And there it was.

We stood in silence, shadows looming ominously as the sun slipped below the horizon.

"What reason do you have to be afraid?" I cupped his face in my hands. So very precious, he was – trembling from the reality that terrified him.

"Because you do things like this," he explained in a shaky voice. You have been toying with me for days, and I feel my control slipping. And I don't want to lose it, but the more you toy with me, the more I want to be rid of it."

"And what if you were to lose control?" I suggested quietly. My face was inches from his. I stared at those delicate carmine lips. "If only for a minute, what would be the outcome of that?"

This was what I wanted, a brief submission, just a taste, just to experience what I had experienced days prior. His anxiety was intoxicating, feeding into me by our connection. I fed it back with a demonic stare. He could not take his eye off of my gaze, no matter how much his mind screamed at him to look away, to take control and simply dismiss me.

A tiny voice whispered, "It would be the end of me."

I smirked. "But that outcome is already written, master."

"So you're saying it's pointless to resist?"

"Yes."

I pulled his face to mine and planted my lips on his. He yelped in surprise, unable to resist yet unwilling to surrender. He continued to stare into my face, like prey staring into the mouth of their predator with the full understanding that there was no use resisting any longer.

The taste of his lips were bittersweet, a taste that could be described as the feeling one has when standing on the precipice of corruption. I smelled the fear mingling with a new wave of longing and submission. I whispered to him, my lips pressed against his, "Allow this one moment. Let it consume your awareness – enjoy this release, young master."

From quivering lips I felt his heated breath as he deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue, pulling me against his small frame. I could not help but succumb to his heat, the earnestness and force of his mouth, the rattling of his body as he pushed against me. There was ferocity to his passion, but his tongue flicked with such a subtle skillfulness. I melted into the sweet impurity of his actions, feeling a hint of his sinister and sickened condition vibrating deep within me. His delicate hands reached for me, fingers tangling into my hair, and I was secured to him. Feeling him tug at me, I locked my arms around his waist. Pushing against me, Ciel moaned and the reverberation of his desire intensified. My body sang with it.

I realized Ciel was playing me as if I were a damned fiddle.

Knowing Ciel as I do, I understood in that moment that when faced with a situation with only one solution, he would not just accept the circumstances. He would rush headlong into the inevitable on his own terms and take command of the situation. I allowed him to pull at my tie, his fingers searching for some other flesh to explore, and I found myself wanting his lust, moaning at his heated touch. I ran the risk of losing myself in his yearning, and I was not willing to succumb to it. The boy could not know that I too was sharing this heat of desire. I could not allow myself to relinquish control of the situation.

Ever so slowly, I pulled away, lips curling, and I took in the sight of his flushed face, lips scarlet. I briefly considered what sort of wanton expression I could leave him with if I were to perform some more lecherous act. I retracted an arm to pull out my watch. It snapped open smartly, and I made sure he saw how my attention would be so easily diverted from him.

"Young master, I do regret that we must cut this short. I have final preparations for dinner to see to." In a swift motion the watch was returned to my coat pocket. I deftly replaced my gloves and set Ciel right, smoothing down his hair, straitening the folds of his jacket, and pulled the handkerchief from my breast pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow.

He stood breathless, and after the moment of confusion he sputtered, "Wh-what?"

"The young master is aware that I have a schedule to keep, and I would hate to not have dinner on the table by seven, so please excuse me. If I were to leave it in Baldroy's hands, I am sure that all I would have to serve you would be a disaster." I swiftly adjusted the knot of my tie and tugged at my jacket. Turning on my heel, I proceeded to the door, and behind me I felt the anger bubbling up as the young master clenched his fists.

"Sebastian!" he called as I reached the for the door handle.

"Yes, young master?"

A grimace adorned those beautiful lips, and he only wanted to give me some order, some impossible task solely to give me difficulty. His head was swimming with too much emotion to calculate his next move and I gave a smug grin at his personal conflict.

"Just... never mind," he muttered, defeated.

"Very well."

I briskly made my way down the hall, ensuring he heard me leave in a rush. I stopped at the end of the hall before making my way to the other wing of the manor and listened. Perhaps he was not aware I was still listening to him as he smashed that beautiful violin. Strings snapped and the belly of the instrument wailed weakly as he threw it against that monstrous, unyielding cabinet.

No doubt he would present me with the task of fixing it.


	6. Chapter 6

**A Magnificent Depravity - Chapter 6**

* * *

I marveled the boy who was a walking contradiction. He lived the public life of an adult, while living the private life of an adolescent – including all its emotional complications. The strength required to prohibit his immaturity (a quality I was uniquely privy to) from bleeding into his relationships with colleagues and acquaintances was astonishing. His self-perception was that he had all the answers and could be immune to any and all danger. I found it rather humorous, and strangely charming.

Ciel poured himself into his work, not just operating Funtom by also making preparations for a charity ball – an event he dreaded immensely. One Wednesday involved a meeting with a factory manager from Dublin to discuss the books and ensure a new product could make the shelves by the first days of spring. The young entrepreneur was quite conscious of how seasons could influence product success.

In order to bring this plan to fruition, company assets needed to be allocated, contracts needed to be forged and signed, and the Earl stipulated the need to see records detailing overall production and cost. Such meetings could be tense, and Ciel preferred to have Tanaka in the room during these sorts of transactions. Not only did he provide an adult influence, but despite appearances he possessed a sharp intellect and years of experience in regards to Funtom's operation.

My master was quite skilled in the art of keeping appearances, and hosting an event, despite his aversion to it, was no exception. After correspondence with Her Majesty, she urged the Earl to send proceeds of this spring event to a new boarding school that opened for deaf children. Ciel only cared about this philanthropy because it was expected of him, a duty afforded by his position in society. He scoffed at those who engaged in philanthropy for its own sake, themselves believing they were the greater men for participating in the noble act of bettering civilization. "Arrogant," the young Phantomhive called it.

"That is a curious judgment, young master," I pointed out, as I set before him some biscuits to accompany his tea. Ciel read his Sunday paper, the typical elevenses ritual, after a long week of early mornings and late evenings.

"You know my stance when it comes to matters of social injustice," he added as he flipped the page with a rustle of newsprint. "There are those who are born to good circumstance, and those who are not. There are those who would fall to circumstance, and those who would choose to rise and meet it with the intention to change their position in life. Those who are strong will persevere, and those who are weak will perish under their own misfortune."

He plucked a biscuit from the delicate tray and bit into it, as though his bitter words would have no effect on its sweetness. "To believe that we can cause a positive change by using resources to raise up the weak is foolish. We only weaken the society as a whole by allocating our energies to those who are unfit to thrive on their own."

"Young master, I see the logic in your reasoning," I interjected. "But I fail to see the humanity in it."

"And you would care of such things?"

I chuckled. "Not particularly; I simply find your sentiments intriguing, how they are in such contrast to the prevailing opinions of this age." I refilled his tea cup and handed it to him.

He took a sip and glared at me. "Consider me a product of circumstance. I believe my unique reasons for being have more than influenced this position." Ciel folded his paper and slapped it on the coffee table. "Besides, I do not consider my opinion to be so very unique. People will say one thing and feel something entirely different in their hearts." He took another sip. "I do believe my perspective on these matters is more prevalent than people would care to admit."

"And what makes you believe that?"

"Because my opinion has a name; it is called 'Social Darwinism.'" With that Ciel gulped the last dregs from the bottom of his cup and rose from the chair. "I am bored with this conversation. Sundays are dreadful, with so little to do."

I began to clear the table onto the trolley. In a low, humming voice, I inquired, "What does my young master have in mind?" The tension that always hung underneath the surface rose up and stretched between us. It took so little effort on my part to incite it, for Ciel always had his lust creeping in the back of his mind, despite his insistence that he could never harbor such thoughts. The most subtle suggestion would cause a blush to rise to his face, a sure sign of his dishonesty on the matter.

"I would prefer to entertain myself for the afternoon, Sebastian. I'll be in the library." He walked to the door and turned, waving his hand in that dismissive, condescending manner. "Why don't you occupy yourself with some tedious activity? Clean my rifles, all of them. I should think the season for geese is almost here."

Ciel had to place much effort in keeping a cool head around me. I could see the strain, how he battled between wanting a dalliance in his own pleasure, and not wanting to lose his control. It became something of a game between us. How much did I have to push? How much would he tread into this territory before backing out? Would he dare to elicit some response from me?

Much to his frustration, he never could.

He attempted to play the game, albeit clumsily. His ignorance in matters of seduction was laughable, a presumed knowledge based on penny dreadfuls rather than any real experience. Regardless, I would placate his efforts, because after all, he knew how to play the charming young lad.

Orders for dessert were the worst. The requests became increasingly decadent: toffee bakewell tart, chestnut truffle cake, gateau chocolat. He would recline in his Queen Anne style chair in the tea room, savoring each bite of sweetness. I watched how the dessert fork would glide slowly from pursued lips. A touch of chocolate would be wiped from the corner of his mouth by a deft finger, before he brought it to his greedy tongue. He would lock his gaze on me as he closed his lips around the digit and pull his hand away slowly, smacking his lips as a clean finger exited.

Amused, I thought, does he know what he implies with that gesture? "It appears you enjoyed your dessert a little too much." As I carried an empty plate from the table, I made sure to bend a little too close to the level of his face. He turned his head as if wanting to perchance exchange glances or steal a kiss, but I would rise just in time to extinguish the moment. I delighted in this chase, where Ciel was so reactive to every moment. Whenever he endeavored to excite me in the same manner, I always left him wanting, pushing him to tread a little farther and act a little more boldly.

From this frustration, he sought every opportunity to call for me and in so doing commanded the most trivial things of me:

"Fetch that book off the shelf for me."

"Adjust this pillow."

"My shoelace, it came undone again."

These childish episodes occupied his time when there was no business to be had, which was quite a bit, since the season offered little reason to be out on the grounds, much less travel for holiday. Her Majesty had no assignment for him either, which frustrated the young master more than he cared to admit. Of course, one knows what they say when it comes to idle hands, and I am not the sort to pass on an opportunity to play.

Uneventful days are few and far in between at the Phantomhive Manor. My master, the walking contradiction, can always manage to place himself in a position in which he has no control. One Thursday was a flurry of stress as the young master worked to determine how several hundred pounds had mysteriously disappeared from his accounts shortly after that meeting with the Dublin manager. Telephone calls were made, ending in Ciel screaming into the receiver. He slammed the mouthpiece down and proceeded to shred a contract made during the meeting a week prior.

"Sebastian!"

I immediately entered the room, having just seen to the purchase of household supplies. "Yes, young master?"

"McDowell, that two faced liar, he seeks to take my investment for some back alley transaction, and I can't afford to lose that damn factory. The end of the quarter is nearly over and I will not tolerate being in the red by the beginning of spring. I order you to go to Dublin. Visit the factory. Find my money. Do whatever it takes, because I'll be damned if anyone thinks they can take advantage of the Earl of Phantomhive!"

"Yes, my Lord. Consider it done."

This statement was all it took to calm the master. He quietly sat back at his desk, continuing his work, the pen scratching furiously. He trusted my statement completely, knowing that every work I spoke was true, trusting I could see to his interests. He would not care to admit that his presumed power was an illusion, or his success was based off the actions of his one trump.

My task was easy enough, but my larger concern was being back in time to serve dinner. I had nothing prepared, and left in Baldroy's hands... before leaving I made preparations, giving explicit instructions as to when to place it in the oven, at the proper temperature, for the exact amount of time. I stressed that any deviation from these instructions would result in severe consequences.

Mey-Rin was given instruction as to when to bring the young master his tea. She was not accustomed to waiting on him in addition to her cleaning duties, and as a result, when I came back from cleaning up the scandal at the factory she was nearly in tears from Ciel's criticism of her abilities.

"He nearly threw the tea pot at me, Sebastian!" she wailed as she retrieved silverware from the cupboard. I pulled the roast out of the oven, appreciative of the fact that Baldroy followed my instruction, for once. He stood in the corner, smugly smoking his cigarette, no doubt praising himself for the work that I expected of him anyway.

"I do apologize if you had to contend with any of his unsightly behavior, Mey-Rin." I sliced the roast with precision. "It has been a hectic day for the master, but I can assure you, things are under control."

The evening was quiet enough, with Ciel eating his meal in silence, taking his wine with him to his smoking room before retiring early. I ordered Finnian to tend to the fires and see to the lamps while I made accommodations to the young master as he prepared for bed.

He lay on his stomach in the four poster bed as I entered the room. I set my candelabra on the bedside table. "Does the young master require anything further?"

"Yes, massage my shoulders." He did not hesitate to sit up and lift off the thin cotton night shirt. He tossed it at his feet and plummeted into the feather pillow. I took in the sight of his lean figure, the sensual curve of his spine, his back marred only by the brand that disrupted otherwise pale, flawless skin.

I freed myself of my gloves and from the armoire I acquired a bottle of oil, appropriate for massage. The air swelled with the scent of lavender filled as I warmed a small amount between my palms. The heat from my hands caused the boy to sigh, his body melting at the sensation. Lavender complimented the boy's scent so exquisitely. To run my fingers over his slim form, feel the muscles shift, hear him groan from the release of the day's tension... pulling a reaction out of this young man was so very addictive.

"Tell me, Sebastian," Ciel groaned as I pressed a thumb along the side of a shoulder blade, "did you have to kill today?"

Such an abrupt question, I wondered. "No. That would have caused too much disruption among the workers. But you will not be hearing from McDowell anymore."

"Oh?"

"He now is terrified of what lengths you will go to ensure your assets are secure, and the risk of swindling you is not worth what transactions he makes under the table. Anyways, the assistant manager is far more trustworthy, I can ensure you. He has your best interests at heart."

"Very well." Quietude rested between us as I pushed into his firm, lower back. The candle light gleaned off his oiled skin. I imagined skimming my fingers down his chest, grabbing at those hips as he lay under me...

I uttered, "Is there anything else the young master wishes to know on the matter?"

"No thank you, Sebastian. I will correspond with this new manager tomorrow. The situation is under control." I worked a knot near the base of his spin and he groaned in response, "Yes, right there..." He tensed under my touch, hissing as he exhaled from clenched teeth. I adored the sound, and I wanted to hear more of it.

"Sebastian, I think I could get too comfortable with your massages."

"Is that so?" The skin was pink and I pressed my palms on this tinted flesh, letting the heat penetrate the tissue.

He sighed, "Your hands… they are so hot…"

"Young master," I purred, "Do you trust me?" I began to trace circles on his lower back, around the brand, inching tantalizing close to his rear.

He shivered in response and turned his head. I caught the gleam of his violet eye in the firelight.

"Do I have a reason not to?"

"Of course not." I ran my hands up the length of his back. They glided effortlessly over his oiled skin as I reached the base of his neck. He wanted to slither under this sensation, just so I could touch more of him.

The flame flickered from the candle, dancing in some unfelt draft. I smirked as it tossed light and shadow against the head board. Gingerly, I plucked one of the candles from the candelabra. Perhaps Ciel saw the light shift as I held it over his exposed shoulders.

"I do wish for a straight answer, young master." My right hand gently turned his head to face forward, and firmly I held him by my neck. "Do you trust me?" His breathing grew huskier as his intuition sensed something was amiss in this situation. Fear gripped his body, and I felt his pulse quicken under my fingertips.

A moment passed; I loosened my grip and traced a finger down his jaw and he trembled. He knew he was standing on the edge of some dangerous territory. He could not identify it, and there for the consequences of stepping over this edge were undetermined. The only certain variable of this situation was that I had a role to play.

He sighed and trying to diminish his anxiety, he replied. "I'll play along. Yes, I trust you."

"Completely?"

"Yes!"

"Then be still."

My hand slowly trailed to his side, caressing reassuringly. I waited until I felt him relax, for his breathing to soften. Still holding the candle aloft, I gave a quick kiss to his neck and whispered, "It stops when you want it to."

"What stops?"

"Trust me."

Slowly, I tilted the candle and watch the flame lick at the wax, collecting to a single drop. I watched it fall under its own weight and in the silence splatter with a plop on the pale flesh of Ciel's back. He yelped in surprise, jerking from the abrupt heat. The skin bloomed red and I dipped to blow on the sensitive skin where the wax immediately hardened.

I waited for some immediate reprimand - I received none. I repeated the action, daring two drops, and this time holding to his side with a little more force. A stifled cry rose from his throat, and I felt my heart race, the blood drumming in my ears.

"My little lord, do you find this heat to your liking?" I pulled back the strands of his hair and whispered in his ear, "Shall I continue?"

I licked at the helix and he took in a sharp breath. "Yes, alright."

I rose from my position of sitting on the side of the bed to one where I straddled over his lying form, having better control from this position. He tried to watch me, but my free hand gripped his head. "Face forward. Do not struggle, or else it will hurt."

Surprisingly, he acquiesced. I kneaded my hand between his shoulder blades, and proceeded to drop a trail of wax between them. Ciel arched his back, and clutched at the sheets. "Oh..." his voice trembled.

"Young master, paraffin wax is truly a remarkable substance," I remarked, then dribbled onto his shoulder. I watched it slip down the crook of his arm and his voice caught in his throat as the liquid heat meandered to more sensitive flesh. I wiped the wax away and licked the scarlet mark before blowing on it. In response to his whimper I moaned into his ear, and perhaps I bucked into his rear a little too urgently.

I ventured to lower the flame as opposed it holding it so high. As wax pooled on his lower back I traced circles and felt it congeal. He shrieked and rocked his hips.

"Tell me how much you are enjoying this, young master."

The sounds that erupted from that pale throat were glorious. He was a panting mess, his skin splotched with red and white. "It is intense..."

"Well, nothing succeeds like excess."

"And just what are you attempting to succeed in, Sebastian?" He twisted around onto his back to face me. His face was flushed, and his brow was slick with sweat. I realized he was incredibly aroused, and I lowered myself slightly, tantalizingly close to his hips. I had to work to not indicate how pleasurable I found this and kept my expression to an amused smirk.

"I will confess, young master, I do enjoy the sounds you make." He saw me tilt the candle over his chest and in horror watch the wax fall. He arched his back and exclaimed at the intense heat to such delicate flesh. His brows were knit and his lips parted as he gasped and thrust against me. I felt his arousal under me and I watched him grit his teeth. "I enjoy your expressions as well," I chuckled.

"Enough."

I blinked.

"You wish to stop?"

"Yes." He was panting. I reached over and placed the candle in its holder. As I retracted my hand from the bedside I felt Ciel's arm shoot up and grasp the front of my shirt. His lips crashed against mine and delicate fingers knotted themselves in my hair. I felt his breath on my face, his tongue thrust into my parted lips, and his voice thrummed through my being. I had to tell myself to not snake my arm around his torso, to not lower my weight onto him, to not just rip the covers away and take all of him.

Just as quickly, I was shocked to feel him push me away. Mismatched eyes bore into me as he ordered, "Get out. Now."

I could only comply. "Yes, my lord," I whispered.

I took the candelabra with me, and left without another word. I closed the door and silently leaned against it. I could hear him through the thick wood, his moaning, panting... "Damn you, Sebastian... oh my… Sebastian, ah… oh… Oh!" he cursed through gritted teeth before bellowing, his orgasm no doubt racking his body violently. My lips curled and my eyes flashed in the dark.

* * *

Post always arrived early on Mondays, and among a bank statement and business reports was a delicate pink envelope with "Phantomhive" inked in flowery cursive.

"It appears Lady Elizabeth has written you, young master." He contemptuously snatched the letter from me and sighed. This was no doubt the last thing he wanted to deal with after the events of the previous night. I felt slightly guilty for being the one to make the young master's sleep most uncomfortable; only slightly.

Young master fiddled with the wax seal, reluctant to crack it. There were moments when the boy would act with the determination of a grown adult and moments, such as this, when he displayed the reluctance of a child.

"Would you prefer me to open it for you?" I gingerly suggested.

"No, I will do it myself!" With that he broke the seal, nearly ripping the letter in the process. Trepidation left his demeanor as he quickly scanned the letter and his expression was replaced with one of frustration. He tossed the letter on the desk at me, rubbed one of his temples and commanded, "Go on, read it."

_20 February 1891_

_My dearest Ciel,_

_Every day that has passed since our time apart has been a needle in my heart. After nearly a week of your absence, I feel as though my heart is leaden, and I ache to be released of the heaviness that is brought by the distance between us. The grey weather seems to reflect my disposition, but I am hopeful the skies will clear so I may see the blue that reminds me of my darling. _

_Mother has sought to keep me busy with my instruction for many of my waking hours. She is as stern as ever, knowing that our engagement will come to a close only after a few short years and insists the honor of the family rests on me. I do not exactly understand what she means by this, but I know not to question my mother. Edward has immersed himself in his law studies at the university in London and we hardly see him anymore. I do miss him terribly, but I trust that he is well, despite his sporadic correspondence. _

_I should very much like to see you the first weekend of March, and Mother has permitted this. I must divulge a secret to you: she does not know of the brooch you gave me and I delight in keeping this secret. Every time I gaze upon it hidden in under the small drawer of my vanity I imagine it as the small flower plucked from the hidden garden of your heart. Know that I will protect your heart forever and always, for I can conceive of nothing more precious. There is no greater honor than to be given the duty of protecting our love. _

_Until we meet in March, please continue to treasure the valentine I made for you and know that it is imbued with love. Part of my heart resides with you, and I will not feel whole again until we are together again. _

_With all of my love, _

_Lizzie_

I looked up from reading the letter to see Ciel laying his head on the desk. "Why does she write to me in this manner?"

"Because she loves you, young master."

"Wonderful observation, Sebastian!" he spat sarcastically.

I smirked and lay the letter on the desk next to his head. "She is simply a girl, my lord. They feel their affections most strongly when they express them in subtle ways."

"This letter is hardly subtle." Lifting himself from his desk he plucked up the envelope and peered inside. "There's a pressed flower here. What is this?" He held it up to me.

I took the dainty white and yellow flower and held it to the light. "This is narcissus. I think in the language of flowers it means she wishes for you to return her affections."

"If I were to do so, I would probably die, Sebastian." He dropped his head again, this time with a loud thunk. "I suppose she expects a quick reply, seeing as it's late in the month." After slowly opening a drawer, he procured a fresh sheet of paper, reached for his pen, and dipped the quill. Ciel hovered over the paper in hesitation, his mind as blank as the page before him.

"Sebastian, I do not know what to write."

I folded my arms. "Are you asking for my advice?"

"Do you have some advice to give?"

With a sly grin and leaning over the desk, I murmured, "Pretend it is to me you are writing."

He blushed furiously, and as his lips turned down in a grimace, he swung his hand to strike me. I could have caught his hand, brought those fingers to my lips and given him a real reason to blush. I allowed him to strike me across the face, pausing at the sting. His ring had grazed me, and I lightly touched my cheek. A touch of red seeped into otherwise flawless white gloves.

"I apologize if I have offended the master," I said matter of fact as I straightened and pulled at my waistcoat.

"You are suggesting I outright lie to her, Sebastian!"

I brought my hand to my forehead in irritation. "Oh please, my little master, as if this were anything out of the ordinary."

"Enough!" he yelled as he shot out of his seat. "Enough of your insolence!"

"Perhaps the young master would like his tea?" I offered gently.

"No! Get out! Do not bother me until I call for you again!"

I would be lying if I were to say I was not aggravated by the young master's aggression. Why could he just not set aside this conflict in his mind? The solution was apparent to me: tell the young woman exactly what she wants to hear and give her no reason to ever question it. The young master was skilled in the art of deceit, so why was wearing this mask in front of her such an issue?

Ciel sat in his office for four hours working up this letter to his sweet betrothed. When he called for me again, his desk was littered with crumbled drafts. He held up a letter, stark white and crisply addressed to Miss Midford. "Ensure this is sent today. And do not open it."

"Yes, my lord." I tucked the letter into my breast pocket.

"Don't read it," he added.

"Of course." He was keenly aware that I did not need to open a letter to read it.

He leaned into his chair, it creaking from the strain of having to recline so far back. "I would very much like to have luncheon now. Damn it, so much work left to do... and I have to make a call to the assistant manager... well I suppose the head manager… what is his name, Sebastian?"

"Tanner, Benjamin Tanner."

He rose from his chair and stretched. "Perform a back ground check on his man after luncheon."

"Most certainly, but if I may, young master, since it is unseasonably mild outside, would you care to take your meal in the gardens this noon?" I gestured to the window, where the sky was remarkably bright as opposed to its usual overcast condition.

"Oh." He went to the window, as though he were just noticing the clear sky, sun shining over vegetation that was just beginning to wake up from the winter. Ciel unlatched the window and swung it open. A crisp breeze gently invited itself into the study. "Yes, I think I would very much like that." He turned and made his way to the door. "Have the servants open all the windows this afternoon."

The air was pleasant enough for the young master to sport a wool jacket and thin stockings, but I brought a scarf outside in the event the wind should pick up and aggravate his breathing. He never did lose his sensitivity to the chill of winter. A trace of the sun's heat could be felt as we made our way to the open gazebo. Rising majestically among the English garden, it's ionic pillars mimicked the sturdy yet graceful ash trees that would make for the most stunning backdrop after the winter season's passing. Among the austere, Neo-Classical stonework of the gazebo I sat lunch at a wrought iron table from my trolley. Juniper bushes surrounding the structure completed the inviting scene.

A Brunswick stew of hearty vegetables and soda bread was a wonderful compliment to the weather, and I felt the young master was in much need of some comfort for all that plagued his mind.

He gracefully set his spoon on the plate under his soup bowl and tenderly brought the napkin to his lips. "Sebastian, I have some questions for you."

"By all means, young master." I stood to the side.

He turned in his chair to face me. "What was the meaning of last night's events?"

"Oh. Yes. I was under the impression that you enjoyed it." He stared at his feet, containing a twinge of embarrassment, no doubt. "Unless I am dreadfully mistaken."

Timidly, he replied. "No... You are... correct in your assumption." I stepped forward, wanting to close the distance for this intimate conversation. "But that does not answer my question. Why did you initiate that in the first place?"

"You mean dripping wax down your back."

"What else would I be referring to?" I could sense the irritation in his voice.

I had to choose my words carefully. "I considered that you might find it enjoyable, and I wanted to see how you would react to it."

He eyed me skeptically. "That's rather curious."

"In what manner?"

"It just is! It was strange, to have you inflicting this pain, and while I wasn't scared... well, it did not hurt too much, but it felt..." he turned from me and folded his arms. "Damn it, Sebastian!"

I rubbed his shoulders reassuringly. "I knew you would enjoy it." He slapped me away.

"See? That, right there! You can just anticipate these things! How is it?"

"Are you asking me how I know my master well enough to anticipate his needs and desires?"

"You bloody well know it goes beyond that!" He sat upright in his seat and stared at me. "These things you do to me. You cause me so much irritation, you know that?"

"Well, I think I cause you to feel more than that."

"And it's terrifying!" He ran a hand roughly through his hair, the eye patch falling from his face. He did not bother to retrieve it from the ground.

I bent to pick it up, but decided not to tie it back over his eye. I spoke softly, "You have no reason to fear. From the first moment you made our contract, and every moment thereafter, you have had no reason to fear anything, because you can always trust nothing will ever harm you. You have known this, and you even admitted to it last night."

He was still, silent, contemplating the unshakeable truth of those words. He was still not satisfied. "Well honestly, am I so simple that you can predict what is necessary to placate these... banal desires?"

"Simple? Predict?"

"Yes, am I so very predictable?"

I thought it such a silly question to ask. "Young master, you are predictable in one regard; I can predict that you will continue to always exceed my expectations."

He gazed at me with those two toned eyes in shock, and slowly the meaning of my words softened his features showing vulnerability in how he knit his eyebrows. His lip quivered. On bent knee, I lowered my gaze to his. "I was quite surprised with just how passionately you reacted last night, young master."

So Ciel would continue to surprise me. Slowly, he closed the distance between us and I welcomed the warmth of those quivering lips. He brought his hands to my face, and I deepened the kiss in response.

I could hear him in the back of my head, like a hollow whisper, _"More, I want more of this."_

I closed my eyes and wrapped myself in this sensation of his heat, savoring the corruption that funneled into some deep place I tried so hard to ignore. Fingers grazed through my hair, over the back of my neck, pulling me into him further and a moan slipped from my lips. His urgency was intoxicating, fueled by a lust that would only continue to grow with every kiss, every caress, every ecstatic sensation I could conjure in this boy.

"Sebastian..." his lips refused to leave mine, "I don't know what to make of any of this-"

"There is nothing to analyze here," I whispered back.

"I want-"

"I know." I quieted his words with another kiss, my tongue shoved forcefully into an eager mouth. He was submitting to this, I could feel it in his hands that gripped my shoulders. My hands traveled to his necktie where I proceeded to loosen it. My lips traveled to a pale neck. I suckled at the sensitive spot below his chin and he pulled me into him.

Ciel's voice trembled, "...how far do we take this, Sebastian?"

I whispered, "As far as my master wishes."

I wrapped my arms around his hips and he yelped as they pulled him to the edge of his chair. I kneaded into his thighs and he gasped, "I do not know where that limit is."

I breathed heavily. "It is best not-" I nipped at his flesh, "to dwell on such matters."

His legs parted, granting me more closeness. "This chair simply will not do," I stated, and lifted him to the table abruptly. He clung to me, panting in my ear. I let my hand trail under his thigh and he shivered from the sensation.

Urgently the boy reached for my hands. "Take them off," he commanded. When he felt the heat of my hands caress the pale flesh that peaked from under those short he gasped and pulled the neck tie off completely. This granted me access to his collarbone which I lapped at fervently. His eyes fluttered, cheeks tinged, lips parted.

In the distance I heard a cheerful humming. Immediately I froze. Ciel looked at me perplexed.

Finnian was far enough away to where the boy could not hear him, but we were visible enough in the expansive garden, and we were sitting in one of its main focal points. I turned to see him heading in our direction with a pair of gardening sheers. Turning back I could see the juniper bushes behind my master were in serious need of trimming.

In the blink of an eye the young master's tie and eye patch were set back in place, he was seated in the chair, as opposed to indecently on the table, and I was standing idly by... just in time for Finnian to glance up and wave at us. Ciel was still panting quite furiously, but I paid no mind as I cleared the last of the condiments from the table onto my trolley.

"Good afternoon, young master!" Finnian piped enthusiastically. "Goodness, are you alright?" he inquired upon seeing the boy's flushed face.

I interjected, "It seems the air is still too cold for the young master to be out for any length of time." I handed the boy his scarf. "Here, my lord, this should help to ease the chill."

He shot daggers at me as he coughed and yanked the scarf from my hands. His eyes widened as we both realized I was not wearing my gloves. Ciel managed to feign a coughing spell to distract Finnian while I quickly slipped them on behind my back. "I'll be in my study," he wheezed as he quickly vacated the area.

"Are you coming to trim the juniper?" I inquired.

"Yes sir!"

"Very well." I could not help but add sternly, "Do not hack them to stumps, for goodness' sake."


	7. Chapter 7

**A Magnificent Depravity - Chapter 7**

* * *

Over the course of a few weeks he had grown fond of kissing, and sought many opportunities to partake in this. He was always the sort to demand his desires be met in a timely manner, and this was of course not limited to personal matters. In terms of business affairs, he was expedient in scheduling meetings, one of which was a trip to Dublin to meet this new factory manager.

During our carriage ride to board the train from King's Cross, he pondered, "What makes one a good kisser?"

"How do you mean, young master?"

"Surely you do not think I'm asking a trick question, Sebastian. How does one know if he is good at kissing?"

I crossed my arms, quite amused by this. "The only way to know is if the one you are kissing wants to be kissed by you again."

He reflected on this answer for a moment, peering out the window onto a hazy moor that would eventually lead to the grimy streets of London. All was quiet until he snapped the curtain closed and rose unsteadily from his seat as the carriage bumped along. Straddling my lap, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and I could not stifle a moan as his lips crashed to mine, his mouth hungry and his body wanting. I inhaled his scent as I deepened the kiss, smelling wool, tobacco, and sublime scent of his lust and the sweetness of his corruptible nature. I nibbled at his chin and his hips ground into mine. My head swam with all manner of devious thoughts of what I could do to this boy.

He breathed, "So, would you say I kiss well?"

I paused, reluctant to give a straight "yes." It was imperative that I remained unreadable, that he knew not what was stirring within me. Over the past few days I had entertained the notion of relinquishing my control. I quickly dismissed that possibility; while pleasure for its own sake is sweet, manipulation requires more skill and therefor yields greater rewards.

"I would say that the master is skilled in many ways," I whispered, the boy shivering in response. I thought it best not to tell him that his soft lips caused the heat in my flesh to rise. When I felt his tongue flick against mine it was as though he pulled at a thread within me, its vibrations reverberating to the core of my being.

I must say, there are advantages to a corporeal form based in this most solid reality. Humans are not aware of just how clouded they are to the whole of reality. They truly live in a cave, only witnessing the shadows on the wall. Despite their clouded perceptions, existing in this solid reality gives experiences immediacy, and the effects of these sensations are undeniable. For a being such as myself, naturally occurring in spaces that only mirror this realm, corporeal existence is so intoxicating.

I welcomed our small, intimate exchanges, but I allowed for the master to initiate them. It was common for Ciel to summon me to his smoking room, or to his bedroom before retiring for the evening. Surprisingly, I found that he was conducting his business with far less stress as a result of our encounters.

Even the servants commented on how the boy's mood had changed. They believed it was due to the shift in the season, or that Elizabeth was coming to visit. I reminded my young master of this a couple days prior to her arrival. Preparations for her were being arranged, and Ciel was diligent with tying up his review over sales reports before she arrived. Looking up from his work, he shortly proclaimed, "Very well, Sebastian, but I'll have you know I did not need you to remind me." He resumed his fervent scratching of pen on paper.

I bowed. "May I ask, young master, are you looking forward to her arrival?"

His lips formed a hard line. "As if it were any of your business, but to answer your question, I see Lizzie as being another appointment to attend."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I am obligated to appeal to her however she wishes. It's for the prestige of my good name, as well her honor, that we work to make this arranged marriage a success. But such things are no more than a business transaction; an exchange of goods and services, where the politics of negotiation are critical to this exchange." He neatly tapped a stack of papers into order and placed them in a folder for filing.

While it was most improper of my station, I was intrigued by the boy's comment and so to engage the conversation further, I sat in the chair opposite his desk. He stared at me, surprised with how I chose to sit without permission. "Am I to conclude that you see her no more than just another asset to your plans?" I rested my chin on my hand, eager for some naïve response from the young man who believed he could have all the answers.

"If you are suggesting that I don't care for her at all, you are mistaken." He rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands under his chin, mimicking me and sizing me up. "She is my cousin, after all."

"So you care for her as a family member?"

"In one regard."

"And what of in the sense that she is your fiancée?"

"Sebastian, you are pushing the matter. Drop it and bring me my tea."

I rose and gave a bow. As I turned to leave, he added, "Despite what sort of... exchanges... we may have had over the past few days, might I remind you: You are my butler. Any sort of events that occur between us, well, it's because I allow them to occur. Do not forget it."

I was sure that he did not see me smirk as I left the room. Such a foolish boy; he failed to remember that it was I that encouraged him to indulge in his desires. His initial decision was to ignore them completely. We both saw how terrible that was for his nerves. I considered, if he wants to believe that he is the one in control of these circumstances, then so be it. Besides, I could sense that under his air of authority and immutable exterior, he found the experiences to be frightening. During those moments of heated exchange he felt out of control, his armor shaken to reveal all vulnerability. In some paradoxical way, this position of vulnerability thrilled him.

There were times when I felt a great reluctance in his touch. He was urgent in his kisses, but was fearful to advance beyond that innocent gesture. He had grown quite conscious of how far he could fall into this pleasure. When he would pull me towards him, I could feel his arousal and on many occasions was not inclined to hide it. One such evening, I hesitantly lowered him onto the bed, my bare hand drifting lower to his trembling hips. I crouched over his slender form, my hungry kisses on his neck being encouraged by his heavy panting. All that laid between my hand and his rosy flesh was the thin cotton of a nightshirt. Young master knew what I was reaching for, and what my intentions were. He saw the flash of my eyes, and instantly he cried, "Don't! Sebastian, I order you to stop!"

Needless to say, that was the end of our rendezvous for that evening.

I could not push him further than what he was comfortable because he was inclined to trust me implicitly. This was the reason why he could feel the full intensity of his fear, look into my eyes as his body quivered and acknowledge the risks he was taking. It only fed into the heat, and the result was a confusion embedded deep in the core of his being. I could taste it on his lips, smell it in his skin. His body reeked of corruption and turmoil, a walking delicacy. He was my masterpiece and with any work of beauty, the most crucial component is patience.

What terrified the boy more? Was it vulnerability itself, or the thrill of relinquishing one's armor? I do not believe even Ciel could answer this question.

Elizabeth arrived at the manor on a clear Saturday as Ciel was finishing elevenses. I expected him to dread the day, but surprisingly, as she bounded out of the carriage, the earl greeted her with open arms and his most charming smile. Most strange, I considered, since less than a month ago he appeared to resent her presence.

Ciel offered a walk through the garden's labyrinth, seeing as how Finny had spent the past three days trimming its hedges and cleaning its winding pathways. Elizabeth wore a new outfit of the season, a pale blue ensemble that was surprisingly less girlish than what her fiancé was accustomed to her adorning. There were fewer frills, the cut designed to accentuate a feminine physique, as opposed to a girl's attire which was meant to hide the body entirely. A smooth bodice accentuated an already tiny waist, which was made more apparent by the fullness of her bustle skirt. Her jacket was smartly tailored, its detailed embroidery winding down the sleeves to her hands decorated in lace gloves. Instead of wearing a girl's bonnet, she chose an elaborate spring hat with lilies and feathers to perch on top of her blonde curls.

Despite such a sophisticated outfit, she still chose to wear her girlish flat shoes. She had grown to quite a height, much like her mother. She was so self-conscious of this fact, and this apprehension was exacerbated by the fact that Ciel's rather short stature. He would unlikely grow much more past his height of five and a half feet. I concluded that it was due to his ill-humored nature, for he had spent his formative years fighting with his asthma and all its complications. Even though the boy would wear a heel that gained him an extra inch, Elizabeth still had several inches above him. While standing side by side, her flamboyant hat did not help the situation.

As a result, Elizabeth slouched slightly (as much as a lady in a corset is able) as they sauntered through the labyrinth garden. Noticing her self-consciousness, "Your new outfit suits you, Lizzie. You wear it quite elegantly." Ciel's compliment certainly elevated her mood. She shifted her parasol, turned, and glanced coyly over her shoulder. Gloved fingers pressed to her cheek, as though to hide a blush.

From that moment on, Elizabeth spared no expense when displaying her flirtatious behavior. The boy not only picked up on her lady-like advances, but was actually responding to them. I watched with intrigue when he held his arm for her to hold as they strolled along. She was happy to share her parasol with him. The scene was positively idyllic, not unlike the painting that hung above the fireplace in the Rococo-esque parlor. I sensed that underneath all his chivalrous displays and charismatic words, his mind stirred with impatience. I could hear him screaming in his mind, "Let's get on with it!" Whatever he meant by "it," I was unsure. He was up to something, and the manner in which he occasionally glanced into the distance led me to conclude his mind was elsewhere.

The two made their way to the center of the labyrinth, where I had a quaint luncheon prepared: cucumber sandwiches, smoked trout, a salad tossed with sweet relish, and fresh buns glazed in honey. To complete the meal, I prepared a treacle tart and coffee. Elizabeth clapped her hands at the delicate display of food set on glass trays at the wrought iron patio set. I decided to complete the display with an arrangement of jonquil and a few sprigs of daphne odora. Surely she would notice this subtle hint.

Ciel held the chair out for his fiancé and she arranged the folds of her skirt after being seated. He gave me a sideways glance and smirked, as if to say, "Well played," nodding to the table. As the lady was preoccupied with her decorum, I reciprocated the silent exchange with a flash of vermillion eyes. Elizabeth looked up to see the blush on the boy's cheeks and perceived it as being directed towards her. This is all aligning so flawlessly, I thought.

Between small bites and sips of tea they carried on a most polite conversation; That is to say, I found the conversation to be rather dull. "Tell me more about your brother, Lizzie. Is he well?" Young master perched his fork on the side of his plate and rested his chin on his hands, as though this were the most interesting thing in the world for him.

The young woman clung to her napkin. "Last I saw him he was in good health. He has been studying law, as you know, but even when university is not occupying all his time, he refuses to come home on holiday."

"Do you suspect anything suspicious?"

"I have no reason to," she looked down at her hands, which were wringing the napkin, "but mother seems disinclined to talk of such things with me. She will not say anything, but I can tell there is something has displeased her."

The young gentleman pondered this for a moment, suspecting something was amiss. Lord Edward was extremely close to his younger sister, not only in the protective sense, but in a trusting one as well. He was eager to share all matters with her, and vice versa. Ciel was very aware of this. Their lack of correspondence, and Elizabeth not knowing her brother's current condition, was a circumstance the boy found more than interesting.

This was not a topic of conversation that the lady was entirely comfortable with, and thus she switched to something she felt was more pleasant. "How are the plans for the charity ball coming along?"

Young master tried his very best to sound chipper and enthusiastic over the whole event. "I find preparing for the event may be more enjoyable than actually attending it, I fear," Ciel quipped. Elizabeth beamed from such a comment.

"Might I ask, Ciel," looking rather sheepish, "Would you be willing to have me play a piece or two on that evening? I have been practicing, you know, and I have so fallen for this one composition. It reminds me so much of the spring."

Ciel crossed his arms as he considered it.

"It would mean so much for me to play for you, in front of everyone," she added.

Again, young master gave another one of his winning smiles. "How could I ever say no to you, Lizzie?" It took all of her will to not dash over the table to take her fiancé into an embrace.

I was suspicious of his demeanor at this point. He was far too relaxed. The little snake, I thought, putting on airs so effortlessly. Just what does he have in his head that has made his interactions with her so effortless? What has resolved in his mind to make this so very possible? All the while his mind screamed, "I'm bored! How can she be so dull?"

Ciel attempted to steer the conversation to literature, but found poor Elizabeth had not read much of anything he had preference for. He attempted to talk politics but learned rather quickly she could not keep up with the conversation. She wished to talk in great detail about her daily goings on with her own studies (which for a lady contain little substance at all), and the time spent with friends over afternoon tea. The boy had to work especially hard to not show just how little he cared.

It was when I served the coffee that Ciel decided to take a different approach. "Lizzie, I understand that our dreams can tell us a lot about ourselves. Have you had an interesting dream lately?"

"My, Ciel, what an odd thing to ask." She blushed. "I... well, goodness me, I'm far too embarrassed to share it."

"Oh, then I suppose it's terribly... improper." As he looked directly into Elizabeth's eyes, her breath hitched. I was beginning to see just what he was playing. He was forcing the conversation to lead to some inevitable conclusion, one where Lady Elizabeth would be compelled to respond in some desired way. In a sense, I felt a sort of endearment, because surely it was from me he learned this tactic.

I pretended that I found the blooming dogwood tree nearby to be of far more interest.

He leaned back in his very smug manner. "Well, might I share one of my own with you?"

Reluctantly, she replied, "I suppose..."

He took a sip of his coffee. "I had this dream where I was on my bed as it was floating out at sea, but it was storming. The waves were terrifying, but at the same time I felt thrilled by the activity of the ocean. It was as if I was waiting for the bed to capsize." My attention was snapped back to the conversation and I did not hide that I was staring at the boy.

"Oh my goodness!" The young lady looked almost stricken with horror. "If I were to have such I dream, I would wake up screaming and not sleep for the rest of the night!"

"Well, I did wake up in the middle of the night from that dream. It wasn't frightening like you would imagine, Lizzie. I slept well enough afterwards." As Elizabeth looked at her dessert plate and took another bite of tart with uncertainty, he puckered his lips in my direction. I felt my heart leap. The sly little imp was playing us both.

"What do you suppose it means, Ciel?"

He leaned forward and whispered, as if divulging a secret, "I think... it means I like to take risks. Could you say the same of yourself?" His eyes were heavily lidded, and I could see Elizabeth swooning in her seat. She hardly knew how to respond to such a question.

"I'm quite finished with my coffee," he proclaimed as he set his cup on the saucer with barely a sound. "Lizzie, would you care to walk with me down to the lake? Perhaps the ducks have come back for the season."

"Oh... okay." As the two rose from their seats I knew this was my cue to clear the table and head back to the manor. Initially I was suspicious of his perspective on his relationship to Elizabeth. I was concerned that under his own foolishness he would sabotage his engagement entirely. Such a predicament would not bode well for his status or reputation, and I just could not allow that. In retrospect, I recognized his logical stance on the matter had put his mind at ease. To explain their betrothal in business terms meant he had the potential to control his situation. This was why the young master felt more at ease with being what Elizabeth wanted him to be.

I made my way to the kitchen with a trolley laden with dirty tableware and a spent meal. Upon entering, I hung my jacket, rolled up my sleeves and began to empty plates and cutlery into the large wash basin. Still, what had changed in over the past several days that could potentially be the reason for the boy's change in disposition?

What had changed was the new level of intimacy between me and the young master. It was not as though I had believed these exchanges would change nothing but he was growing cockier by the day. It was a few months prior that he seemed highly reserved and sullen. Since the evening where he destroyed that violin, he carried a certain glint in his eye that indicated a hidden amusement. He found our liaisons to be a sort of game. I could not help but chuckle at this realization. Did he believe he could actually win at this?

I was elbow deep in dish water when I heard a door upstairs close, which was preceded by quick steps. Most curious, I wondered. Something about it was amiss, so I proceeded to dry myself and adorn my gloves and jacket. Even after I had managed to roll down my sleeves I could feel the crumpled fabric underneath the jacket. No one would notice it, but I knew the creases were there; it was most unprofessional. This was usually my time to change my shirt and see to my own laundry, but I supposed it could wait. I stalked up the stairs to where I heard someone enter through the back door that led to the patio.

I happened across Elizabeth who had quickly taken the stairs and was making her way through a back corridor. I hung back under the shadow of the stairs to watch her above me and heard sobbing. As she turned a corner, I took to the stairs, making sure I would not be seen nor heard. It was apparent that she was making her way to her personal guest room with the intention of going unnoticed. Once she felt she was in a hidden corridor, quite alone, she allowed herself sob more openly. I peered around the corner to see her dabbing her red face with a soaked handkerchief. She had the look of a woman who wanted to crumple into herself, but could not for the restrictions of a corset. I concluded that Ciel would have been the one responsible for the lady's distress. How he had sent her into such a state, I could only speculate.

I slipped into a lounge off the main corridor by the back stairway. The speaking tubes were in a discreet corner of the room and knowing Mey-Rin would be in the laundry room, I spoke calmly, "Mey-Rin, my dear; Are you available?"

A moment later I heard her quivering voice echo up the tube, "Yes, sir, is there something... you need help with?"

It was then I heard a distant crash, coming from a much lower part of the house. Apparently, the maid heard it as well, for being at ground level. She squeaked in response. "What was that? Sebastian, what is going on?"

I sighed. "Oh my, I suppose something _has_ happened between the young master and the Lady Elizabeth. She is in her quarters right now. Would you see to her? I must take care of-" Another crash was heard. "…The young lord."

"Say no more, sir!"

I could make out that it was the sound of glass being thrown against a very resistant surface. As I hurried down the stairs to the main floor and turned toward the kitchen, the noise grew more apparent. Peering in, I noticed he was not in there directly but he was terribly close by. I followed the racket to the end of the narrow hall leading down to the wine cellar where the sound of glass shattering echoed its way up the stone walls.

There was hardly any light to be had in this place; a small amount from the doorway above. As one moved towards the back of the cellar, this darkness became so dense it was difficult to determine where one's person was in proximity to anything at all. It was into the back of the cellar that Ciel was tossing wine bottles with all the fury his body could muster. Within the dim light I could see the wine seeping towards him in the cracks of the uneven cobbled floor.

This display was downright ludicrous. Most often I made the greatest effort to practice patience with the boy, but in this situation it was only appropriate that I be entirely on the level with him.

A bottle of Pinot Noir came whizzing toward me. I quickly cast it aside, and it collided against nearby shelf. "Damn it, Sebastian! Damn it all to hell!"

"What foul language, young master." I darted across the room faster than his senses could register and grabbed him by the jaw. "Do you realize..." I cocked my head and lowered my voice, "the mess you have made?" I was hardly referring to the cellar. I pulled another bottle of wine out of his hand forcefully before he could hit me with it. After I had a firm grip on his body, I calmly set the bottle, Chablis, back into the wine rack.

"What did you do?" I demanded. "What is the meaning of all this?"

He attempted to squirm away from me, which resulted in me holding him tighter, his arms held to his side by my firm grip. I lowered my voice, hoping it would calm him, but honestly I was beyond attempting to be patient. "Elizabeth is terribly upset and I am blaming you for it. You do realize the potential repercussions of this, correct?" What folly would I have to clean up for him?

"Let go and I'll tell you!"

"Tell me and I will let go." With both of my arms wrapped around him now, it was too easy to lift him off the ground. I could smell honeysuckle in his hair. I could smell a trace of Lady Elizabeth's perfume on him as well.

He spat, "I kissed her, all right?"

I blinked. What did he hope to accomplish from such an act? "...Is that all?"

"Not really." He shifted a little in my arms and whispered in my ear, as though he were afraid to hear himself say it. "Do you know about a week and a half ago, what you said about my letter to Lizzie, how I should imagine myself writing to you instead of to her?"

"I do recall..." I held him in a less restricting manner, seeing as he was a little calmer. I did not feel inclined to let go of him entirely, knowing my closeness was only making the boy more agreeable.

"Well, I did not take that advice in that way."

I was eager to see where he was headed with all of this explanation. I pulled off his eye patch, because I wanted to see him fully in the dim cellar. "How do you mean, young master?"

His lips were inches from mine. "When I kissed her... I tried to kiss her as if I were kissing you."

The silence pressed in on us.

He never ceased to exceed my expectations.

"My, that is truly sinister, young master."

"I know, and oh how wrong I was for doing it." Those mismatched eyes held my gaze, as though it were the only thing he had to cling to. "I thought that maybe it was what she wanted. I considered I could do that if I just… pretended. She ran from me, Sebastian. I suppose it was too... intense?"

At this point I could give a damn about the mess in the cellar. My master had worked himself up to such a fit and I was more concerned with seeing to that. Well, I would be lying if my focus was entirely on his state of mind.

He continued, "She is simply too good of a person and I would only disrupt that. I realized the conditions of our relationship really are constant; she'll never know me as I am, nor would she want to. Also, as much as I attempted to feel something with her in that moment, I couldn't. She leaves me hollow."

I let that word hang in the small spaces between us. Ciel was so vulnerable in that moment.

"Do you feel hollow when I am near?" I inquired gently. I was desperate to know, anything to gain leverage over this boy.

Out of the silence he murmured, "...No. Sebastian, you make me feel so many things it frightens me."

He took the liberty to run his fingers through my hair, hands shaking, lips quivering. I could not help but tip my head and expose my neck. "Then tell me, young master. Just what are you feeling?"

"Other than afraid?" His lips gently grazed my exposed flesh. "I feel," another kiss, "excited," and another, "and angry," he nipped at my chin, "and alive."

I could not stop myself from forcing my lips onto his. My tongue was greedy, and I did not care. He clung to me, and effortlessly I lifted him and his legs wrapped around my waist as I backed him into a cabinet. My fingers dug into his rear, pushing him against me, and he muttered, "oh my—"

"Do you feel alive now, young master?"

"Yes—"

"Do you want more of this?"

"Yes..."

"Then, would you allow me to give you more of this pleasure?"

His breathing was labored and his fingers tangled in my hair as he pushed his arousal against me. I whispered, "You want this. You trust me. It is rather simple. Just say it and it is yours."

"Oh... Sebastian," he whimpered. I bit at his lower lip and he moaned. "Uhn... okay, yes, I want it."


	8. Chapter 8

**A Magnificent Depravity - Chapter 8**

* * *

After uttering those simple words, the gravity of what Ciel desperately agreed to sank upon us. Desperation shone in those mismatched eyes. As he grabbed at my tailcoat, I realized I had stopped breathing, for the boy's outright acceptance and complete disregard of control was unexpected on my part. On the other hand, it was only a matter of time before the young earl would crack under the pressure; give into an urge he could no longer ignore. Kissing would never be enough. He responded too fervently to my touch, moaned hungrily as I sensed the ardor rising as destructive as an inferno.

A smirk coiled across my lips, but all he could see in the dark was the dim glow of my eyes. I found it remarkable how he could gaze at such a terrifying sight without wincing, cowering away. This unique quality made me want him all the more.

He would most surely regret this rendezvous.

"Sebastian," the boy whispered in my ear, "No one must know of this."

I grazed my lips past his neck, just below his ear. "Of course, my little lord," I responded tenderly as I gathered him in my arms. Despite being familiar with this sensation of being carried, he trembled from uncertainty. I could feel the heat on his face, the back of his neck. He had little idea as to what he was begging for, and I was inwardly reveling in triumph.

I cautiously took to the stairs, listening for any movement in the hall before proceeding. I remembered Bardroy had been sent to the market. Finny was more than likely in the gardens. Tanaka was having tea on the other side of the manor, where the bedrooms were located. There was also consideration that we could raise Lady Elizabeth's suspicions, despite her need for Mey-Rin's consolations. It was not in our best interest to venture where there was so much risk.

With my seemingly weightless master gathered in my arms, I jolted down the hallway, and cautiously peered around the corner. Silence abounded in this wing of the manor. We slipped past the dining hall, toward the darkened corridor that led to the smoking room, on the north side. No one would have want or reason to be in this part of the manor.

When we arrived at the door leading to this room, perhaps it was at this moment that Ciel realized precisely what he had demanded. I could hear the apprehension in his breath, the heart pounded excited crimson and I felt the heat coursing through him. I gently set him on his feet, and opened the door for him. He gaped at me, uncertain of whether or not to enter.

I gestured to the room's interior, wearing my typical, welcoming smile. He had every reason to feel nervous about the situation - I was ushering him into a room where I had every intention of fulfilling my master's desire and curiosity. As he peered reluctantly into the dark room, I knew he was reminiscing over our previous rendezvous.

We never did speak of that moment to any real length.

After he entered, I followed, and closed the door behind me with a click. He whipped around, that seemingly unnoticeable noise reaffirming all his fears.

He was alone, with me between his only means of escape. I stared at him as a predator would stare down his prey. He would have no control in this situation and that was precisely how I wanted it.

Despite the evident nervousness knit between his brows and the way he blinked his eyes more than usual, he stood straighter in an attempt to hide his apprehension. Out of his own pride, he would not even consider recanting. I brought a wrist to my teeth, pulling at the cloth of my gloves, my eyes never leaving his. The restriction left me, and my hand was ablaze with the anticipation of what upon I was to rest it. The glove fell soundlessly to the floor and urgently the other followed.

"Young master, you appear hesitant." I proclaimed, stepping forward. He recoiled, nearly taking a step back in fearful reflex, but caught himself mid-step, and his pride compelled him to stand firm. He grimaced, knowing I was seeing his vulnerability. He wished he had some scathing remark, knew how to proceed. All the boy had to do was give an order, but I did not think he had the capacity to give such a lecherous order, for all his boyish ignorance.

As I towered over him, I could only smirk as the shame seemed to drip from him. He was aware of this; it was the shame of wanting something and not knowing precisely what that thing was. "Please relax, my little lord," I whispered. Taking his right hand in my left, I kissed the palm. It was a tender gesture, meaning to put him at ease. A breath escaped his lips, another moment of weakness that slipped past him.

"What do you plan to do to me, Sebastian?" his voice quivered.

"Would you prefer if I took the thrill of not knowing from you?" I casually began to unbutton his coat in the dutiful manner in which he was accustomed. I expected this familiar ritual would set his mind at ease. "I do not wish to spoil it. Besides, if I were to give you details, I fear I run the risk of being dismissed."

"What do you mean?"

I neatly slung the coat over the back of his chair and took the same methodical approach to his neck tie. "My methods are most deplorable." He chose not to remark on that statement, for I crouched down and unbuckled his shoes and out of them he stepped. I glanced up to see him eyeing me with disgust. "Why do you carry such an expression, young lord?"

"What have you lured me into?" His voice seethed with such an air of disgust. I found it irresistible.

I rose to take off his waist coat. "Do you believe that I have somehow deceived you?" I pressed the buttons out of the holes with deliberation. "I made it clear that this goes as far as the young master wishes. I will admit that I have largely encouraged your... curiosities, but can you truly claim that my actions were not conjunct with what you desired in the first place?"

"The last time we were in here... together..."

"I can confess that your faculties of reasoning were impaired that last time, but all the same you enjoyed that." I reached the last button and Ciel shifted to allow it to fall off his shoulders. "And might I remind you, you did not cut that short out of disgust. Quite the contrary, you left to your room to pleasure yourself."

"You knew about that."

I was at his shirt, and I slipped the cloth past a naked shoulder and set my lips to the warm flesh. In a low voice I replied, "Every time the young master pleasures himself, I know about it." A small moan escaped his lips. This compelled me to tug the shirt off him instead of folding it neatly. My bare fingers danced down his spine to the waist band of his trousers.

Ciel whispered, "You are filthy."

"If you think me filthy, then what are you to say of how you react to me?"

"Shut up."

Clearly, his last order was an invitation to silence my lips with his. I eagerly accepted his kiss and my hands roamed to his front. I expertly unfastened the buttons of his trousers, slipping down his legs. His breeches followed soon after and he gasped into my mouth as he felt the warmth of his clothes left his lower extremities exposed. "It's so cold..."

I replied, "In a moment I can assure you that will not be a problem." I felt his goose pimpled flesh on his thigh and his naked form shivered under my touch.

I lifted him and his slender legs wrapped around my waist. I felt his erection press into my abdomen and I spoiled the sensitive flesh with puckered lips. My fingers squeezed at his rear, gently caressing the warm center between his cheeks. He gasped and his fingers laced themselves in my hair. I saw the blush cascade down his neck and I playfully pushed against his puckered entranced.

"What are you doing?" he yelped in response.

"Does my little lord not like it?" His blush deepened.

"It is... embarrassing."

I massaged his thigh reassuringly. "You will enjoy what I have to offer all the more if you relinquish these silly inhibitions." I lowered him to the couch. "Let me make you more comfortable, young master." I hovered over him as he lay lengthwise across the plush cushions, one of my knees positioned next to him, my other leg braced over the couch, bearing my weight. His eyes widened from being placed in such a vulnerable position. My hands grazed over his hips as lips descended over a pink nipple. Ciel gasped from the sensation and he bucked when my skillful fingers lingered close to his begging arousal.

I slipped his erect organ into my hands and gently my thumb massaged the underside of the tip. I pumped to the base and tightened my grip on him as I ventured towards the tip again. He brought his hand to his gaping lips as he tried to stifle a yelp. "I wonder, young master; how do you stroke yourself?" I continued this slow process, making sure to collect the fluid from his tip to lubricate the hand that fondled him. I snaked an arm around his chest as I nipped at a hardened nipple. He continued to moan from my touches, and so I glanced at him and pressed, "Well, are you going to tell me?"

Between gasps, he breathed, "Y-you are not – uhn… fast enough."

"Oh, but you seem to enjoy this leisurely pace. If I were to go any faster, I imagine the young master will expend himself much too soon." I lapped at the other nipple, causing it to bud up. My cool breath on the red flesh sent him into another fit of moans. "We are just getting started, my little master." My thumb massaged around the slick tip as I tightened my grip on his swollen member.

"Sebastian," he whispered, "I want more."

"More?"

"What other pleasure can you show me?"

I lifted myself from the couch, and he appeared to regret the loss of my touch. "Sit up," I instructed as I knelt on the floor, my arms positioning his lap in front of me.

The boy was still wearing those stockings. I quickly peeled them from his calves, leaving kisses on his knees. His breathing was labored, and he held his arms around his chest, cold from the lack of contact where so much of our heat was concentrated. My hands traveled over his thighs, to his hips and I pulled him to the edge of the couch. I lay a kiss on his belly, my chin grazing against his still erect organ. My tongue slid into his navel and he jerked.

"Place your hands on me, young master." I felt small fingers caress the back of my head and I nuzzled his manhood. I reveled in his scent, for it was such a sweetly sinful musk. I purred from this heady odor and my lips swept against his sacral region where dark hair curled. I felt those fingers clench into my scalp.

"Sebastian, what are you—oh!" my tongue grazed his organ, taking in this taste of corruption. His dark and subversive nature saturated the boy's fluid, and I was desperate to taste more of it. I wanted to send him into a state of delirium with the level of pleasure I could give him. I placed my lips around the crown of his shaft, lapping at the slit, hoping I could find another trace of his essence there. A moan strummed deeply in my throat. I could not contain this hunger anymore.

My lips pulled away from him, resting on the very tip. "Sweet hell... young master, you taste delightful." I spoke against his heated organ.

"You tr-truly are… ahn… deplorable, Sebas… tian." His breathing was labored.

"And I think you enjoy it." I looked up, not lifting my lips from his erection. The shame shone scarlet on his cheeks, down his chest. As I grazed my lips over the ridge his lips formed an O. "But we can stop, if you so choose. You can simply dismiss me... and you can finish off yourself." I reached a hand to clasp around his base and flicked my tongue against the nerve that ran underneath his bulging organ.

Twitching fingers grasped greedily at hair and he forced my head down as he bucked his hips. I accepted all of him into my jaws, assuming his action was a direct order. I proceeded to press my hands into his hips and pump my lips over his entire length. He cried at the fullness of the sensation, urging me to continue.

"Sebastian... oh, yes..." he relinquished his control of my head and instead his hands caressed his chest, fingers rolling over pert nipples, rolling them, sending him even more pleasure. To see my master in such a licentious state urged me to offer more. It was too enticing, to tread further and engage the boy in other lewd pleasures.

I pulled away briefly to instruct, "Place your feet on my shoulders, young master." He did so and I pulled him closer, his rear nearly off the seat. I had access to so much more of him in this position. "Grip the back of the couch."

"Why?"

"I assure you, you are going to need something to hold on to." Despite catching sight of my devious grin, he heeded my advice. Lifting his knees to his chest, my tongue roamed beyond the flesh that hung between his legs, to a rosy center. My tongue flicked around the sensitive flesh and he yelped in surprise. I prodded against the tight entrance and he inhaled sharply, grasping the headboard of the couch more tightly.

"Sebastian, why are you..." he gasped as my tongue explored further, softening the tight muscles, wetting this hole. I pushed against the entrance and Ciel mewled at this new sensation. Quickly I lowered his feet back to my shoulders so I could free my hands. I brought a finger to my lips and sucked messily.

After I felt it was sufficiently prepared, I inquired, "Did you enjoy that, young master?" He nodded, a little perplexed as to how he could have possibly enjoyed it. I smirked, "Do be patient, for this may feel strange." I slipped the wet finger between his cheeks and he recoiled from the sensation as it penetrated him.

My other hand caressed his rump reassuringly. "Relax your hips, let them drop." The pressure slowly eased around the digit inside of him. He rested his weight on my hand that held up his rear. "Oh, good boy." I brought his organ to my lips again, and he bucked into the now familiar pleasure.

As he jolted, my finger jerked inside of him, sending a new sensation through the boy. He cried out in surprise. "Wh-what was that?!"

"Oh? This?" I pushed further and he yelped again, his erection twitching from the pleasure that was erupting from his core. "It appears the young master did not know he could feel that." I slowly pulled my finger away to slam it into him again and he quivered from the burst of pleasure it gave him. "Have you never touched yourself in this manner? Were you never the least bit curious?" I slowly continued this action, reveling in the shocked exhilaration blossoming over his features. His eyes fluttered and lips hung agape. "I think I could make you climax like this, young master."

"Oh my God..." he tilted his head back.

"He has nothing to do with this." I pumped into him with eager aggression. He yelped at the sensation and I felt his arms around my back. "Call to me, young master. I am the only one who will hear your pleas." He clung to me as if I was all he had, this dark reality.

The tip of his member dripped with more fluid and I lapped at it, causing him to gasp. "Yes, yes, Sebastian, do that."

I chuckled. "Would you prefer I finish you off in this manner, my young master?"

"Uhn... oh shite..."

I suckled at him, "Will you come for me, my lord?"

"Oh... please..."

I took him into my mouth again, sucking then pulled up. "You must be desperate for release, to ask so politely." I pumped him with pursed lips, his breathing growing more ragged. His chest grew red. "You are so close, young master..."

"Sebastian, I want it, more..." I pumped harder, his member reaching the back of my throat. I moaned against it, wagging my finger inside of him. His toes curled as the soles of his feet pushed into my shoulders. I crushed him into the couch with my free hand as I hammered into him furiously, my head bobbing over him.

"Oh… oh – Sebasti… ah!" his voice trilled loudly, mad with pleasure as he released his white fluid, jolting uncontrollably. I tasted the essence of him, and I could not stifle the groan that escaped my lips. His effluence coated the inside of my mouth, and I buried my head in his lap, reveling in the taste of salt, debauchery, deeper than sin, more corrupted and convoluted than I can describe.

His body relaxed, coming down from his climax. I slipped my finger out of his entrance. The boy's seed slowly made its way down my throat, wanting to grasp at all parts of me. It was as relieving as a drink of water in the desert. He quelled my hunger... and fueled it all at once. His legs slumped down my back as he rested the crook of his knees on my shoulders. His grip loosened on the couch and I grasped at his sides as I buried my face in his abdomen. I trembled... visibly trembled from his essence filling me. I had not realized just how much my body had been this empty chasm until that moment.

"Oh... my little lord..." My defenses were weakened by the taste of him on my lips. I pulled him onto me as I disgracefully sat on the floor, tenderly petting his back. He clung to me, still spent from his climax. He was most agreeable in this state, his touches almost tender. I kissed his jaw, tasting a hint of that same corruption in the sweat that beaded on his skin.

I would have lapped at him as eagerly as a cat, if he had not ordered, "Dress me." Quickly I complied, setting him back on the couch as I collected his clothing dispersed about the room: slung over a chair, crumpled on the floor, lazily folded in a seat. I wish I had taken better care of them, noting how they had wrinkled. I could not keep my fingers from quivering as I worked the buttons of his clothes, and Ciel noticed this. I did my best to smooth out the wrinkles, but as I looked at him fully dressed, appearing a little disheveled on the edges, I could not quell the impression that I had failed as a butler.

He sat in his chair and picked up his pipe. He packed it in his usual manner and lit it with a flourish. I stood slightly distant, at a loss of what to do with myself. I knew that underneath his calm, collected exterior, turmoil raged, as evidence to the manner in which he puffed desperately at his pipe.

"Sebastian, sit." I settled in the seat across from him. He gestured to his pipe rack on the table between us. "Please, help yourself."

"I do not care to-"

"Don't argue with me."

This was most unusual. I felt a little reluctant, strangely enough. I chuckled at myself, thinking it silly how only moment prior I had my young master in the most compromising position and yet I felt odd sitting as an equal sharing a pipe. Nonetheless, I picked up the least expensive Upshall and tamped a bit of the tobacco in the bowl

He set down his pipe and looked me full in the face. "What did we just do?"

"Do you ask that question in a literal sense, or in a rhetorical sense?"

"I mean it in the sense that I am not quite sure what this entire affair means." He sucked on his pipe eagerly, trying to calm his nerves. His free hand clung to the arm of his chair.

I smirked and took a drag from my pipe, feeling rather smug with myself. Tobacco has that effect, I suppose. "It is not necessary to assign this tryst any meaning."

"But what is to come of all this?"

I looked away from him. "Whatever my master wishes to come from it. Do you wish to end it? Now that you know what it means to feel real pleasure, do you prefer to just forget it ever happened?"

He grasped his face in his hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I do not think I could forget it if I wished." He sighed and set down his pipe. "I feel as though I will not want to. But do you not see? I just committed a horrible act against Lizzie."

"Young master, you are not the first to commit adultery against one's partner."

The expression set on his lips was grim. "She must not find out about this, Sebastian."

This was the primary source of his worry: hurting Lizzie, her finding out just how depraved her fiancé truly was, disgracing his family name because of it. I nodded my head resolutely. "She will never learn of the events that took place in this room, my lord." Hopefully that would be enough to calm his fears.

As he sat in continued silence, I could not help myself from anticipating the next time when I would be able to lay my hands on his heated flesh, hear him moan as he does, taste his debauched nature. Perhaps my quickened breathing, thinking of such things, was what caused him to jerk his head in my direction. I was already in a prone position, feeling that my unexpected hunger for Ciel had worn at my defenses. He sensed it, and this rare moment both baffled and intrigued him.

"Sebastian, you must answer these next several questions completely. Do not skirt around what I have to say. Do not twist your words so they may be interpreted in any other way. I want straight forward, untarnished facts." He tapped the pipe in the ash tray and tamped it with more tobacco. After lighting it, he asked, "Do you understand?"

I tried to hide my apprehension. "Yes, my lord."

The words were as palpable as the smoke that left his lips. "Do you desire me?"

My head screamed, no no no... for the love of all that is unholy... but the word that escaped my lips as though it were pulled from me without my consent was, "Yes."

"And this is not just my soul. You desire my body."

I gripped the arms of the chair. "Yes."

"Did you receive some pleasure from this... dalliance? How? In what manner?" He took a drag from his pipe, calm spreading over his disposition. It set me on edge.

"Yes, young master." I had to look away as the words spilled from me. I could not tell lies. "Young master is so perfect when he feels passion. I taste your malignance in your skin, your lips... and every fluid that rises to the surface..." No, I did not want him to know this. This was my trump against him, and I felt that my loss of control had taken its course to the most undesirable consequence.

A smile curled on his lips. He understood this implication. Where prior he felt reluctance and inhibition, this playing chip meant he was back in the game. I had underestimated my charge. I chuckled, entertaining the possibilities of precisely what Ciel would do with this new development.


	9. Chapter 9

**A Magnificent Depravity - Chapter 9 **

* * *

Just as an ashy odor had impregnated the smoking room, the affair that played out on our private stage would permanently settle into our minds. There was no miraculous act that could wipe the stench clean. The only solution was to mask the evidence. Ciel had marched out of the parlor, a room that reeked of tobacco and sex, his head held high with some new resolve. He refused to feel guilt for the deceit he was enacting against Lady Elizabeth, because according to his adolescent logic, such a sentiment was not necessary when one is in complete control of the entire affair.

This is not to say he discontinued seeing his relationship as high priority. If anything, he became exceeding attentive to it, to a level that might be view as neurotic. Ciel would don his mask as he slipped into the role of a gentleman at the drop of a hat: accommodating, sensitive and respectful. He understood the importance of mending the terrible blow up between them, and feared the consequences of not attending to it swiftly. Any other young gentleman saw to this duty out of remorse for the pain he had wrought, or the guilt he felt from his own shames. I was convinced that Ciel could feel neither. His motivations were purely to appease Elizabeth so as to not cause disruption. Nonetheless, he could wear the expression of one who felt the oppression of the world's collective sinfulness, as if one minor transgression was capable of such a penalty.

Through the afternoon, Elizabeth remained quiet in her room, requesting tea in solitude and insisted that she would leave for home earlier than scheduled, despite her arrival to the Midford manor would be late in the evening. She insisted that she had her studies to attend to, and mother would appreciate her devotion to her education. Elizabeth made this request in a most formal tone, sitting distantly on her couch with her tea, as her betrothed stood by the doorway, reluctant to encroach. She sat with an air that demanded that her space not be impeded, for her lady-like sensibilities had been violated enough.

After she had left the manor, Ciel arranged to have flowers sent to Miss Midford every day for the next week, each bouquet bearing some flowery rendition of "I'm sorry," "please forgive me," "you are pure and virtuous," "my heart aches for your approval." It was abysmally sappy. The letters he wrote were far worse, groveling, pleading messages that made him out to be a victim in his own short comings, and yet he was seeking council to improve himself for her. They were all saccharine lies that Elizabeth would devour without question.

I smiled upon the whole development as a tutor would give his approval to his protégé. For the moment, I preferred Ciel to act with some semblance of control and poise whilst lavishly apologizing to Elizabeth. It made quelling the suspicions of the servants that much easier.

The other servants were by no means ignorant to the couple's conflict, since it was I who insisted that Mey-Rin be the one to see after Elizabeth and ensure her comfort. No doubt the young girl divulged what had happened, hoping a woman would sympathize. Of course the maid would gossip with the other servants, and consequently their behavior around Ciel was affected. They eyed him critically over dinner, commenting that he did not appear the least bit guilty over how he treated poor Lady Elizabeth.

This sort of dissent was absolutely intolerable. After dinner, I ordered all of them to the kitchen for a firm discussion. Tanaka, on the other hand, was not in need of any discussion; he knew the lesson of irrefutable devotion as butler well enough.

"I would like to know just how aware all of you are to the events of today," I stated, standing resolutely. While my tone rang with a lighthearted air, my demeanor was anything but. It was enough to send them shivering, awaiting some reprimand.

Mey-Rin decided it were best to stand forward. "Please don't be angry with me, Sebastian! Lady Elizabeth was just so upset, and any one would admit that the young master must have been out of line for her to be so distraught!"

Her statement was met with approval, Bardroy nodding with a "yeah," arms crossed. I found it strange how despite his boorish disposition, he would be so bold as to assume he knew how one acts with honor and decency.

A raised hand prompted immediate silence. The three stood stiffly. "Despite what personal opinion you may have on the matter, these sentiments will absolutely not affect your attitude or service toward the young master. He has had many pressures on him as of late."

Their interest piqued by my last comment. I realized that immediately after stating it I should have kept to myself. On the other hand, Ciel was in need of a little sympathy in the manor.

Finnian spoke up. "What sort of pressures, Sebastian?"

"This is the sort of conversation I will not tolerate among any of you," I quipped.

"You brought it up," Bardroy retorted.

Finnian added, "Yeah, and we're just concerned for the master, 's all."

I could tell they had Ciel's best interest at heart, but I added, "The master's business is his own. There will be no more discussion of it. Anyone seen speaking ill of the master again or speaking of his actions negatively again will result in severe consequences." My eyes pierced as I glared intently at each servant individually; I had them all sweating bullets. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"I'll leave all of you to clean up from this evening's meal." I turned on my heel to leave, feeling young master ordering for my presence. Even from the other side of the manor, I could crisply sense his need.

His confidence in the affair was rooted in the knowledge that I craved him increasingly. In some prideful way, he saw this as truly filthy. He could logically explain his need for some sexual release: he was a young man with needs, sometimes tension has to be relieved, occasional relief eases the stress of putting on the airs of public decency. I, on the other hand, was the perverse one for wanting to lay my hands on him. My hands craved his skin, my lips were ever eager to sink around him, and I could listen to his groaning for hours. I would no longer deny this, since the truth was forced out of me. I could not help but sneer at his hypocritical logic. Was it not him who originally saw an attraction in me? Was it not a short time ago that he was an addled mess over the matter? Of course he had forgotten his initial fears, for they were overshadowed by a swollen pride. Be that as it may, I would let him have his pride, because it kept him from being a nervous wreck over the immoral treatment of his fiancée.

After our encounter in the smoking room, he was reluctant to summon me again for any other rendezvous. It was part of his need for control. He did not wish to appear too eager, because to do so was to admit to some awful truth that made him feel incredibly vulgar. I knew this was part of the allure for him, to yearn for something so sickening and then to conquer it. A condescending glare communicated his belief that he had somehow won his dominance over me.

I was incredibly amused by this. The manner in which he displayed and affirmed this perceived dominance was undeniably entertaining.

I was not terribly irritated by his realization that yes, I was receiving some pleasure from our encounters. He was rather clever after all, and in a small way I had anticipated him coming to the realization, even if I had given very little away. I had forced myself to be restrained in my actions with him, denying myself to express my own pleasure. There had been small instances where I had let a moan slip, or perhaps I caressed him a little too eagerly. Even so, my displays were minor in comparison to how much I could affect my little master. In those heated moments, decorum was not so much set aside, but rather thrown to the wind. After the episode, he would pluck up his decency like a discarded shirt and don it again as though it were of no consequence.

As a result, he was rather careless over the whole affair, but I minded little, his attitude implied that he did indeed trust me. He was so confident that nothing awful could come from this secret arrangement. I daresay I was flattered and thus motivated to not betray this trust. After all, I had everything to gain from such course.

I was adamant about ensuring our intimate exchange would continue to go unnoticed, but there were moments when I questioned whether Ciel concerned himself over the possibility of us being seen. His actions escalated in recklessness over the course of the week.

On one such occasion, I saw him slip out of his library, lips pursued. I had finished unpacking the master's summer wardrobe, and when I came across him in the hall, he was quick to pull me to his level and forced my lips on his urgently. My eyes widened not so much from the gesture, but the scent on his lips. He tasted of sex and debauchery. As he opened his mouth and I felt a foreign yet familiar substance slip into my mouth. A pulse shivered though me and my suspicions were delightfully confirmed.

The boy had been in the library, pleasuring himself, no doubt. The refuse of that deplorable act was decidedly collected and he wished to deposit it to me. How perverse, I wondered, but still I found the gesture a little endearing, not to mention extremely arousing. I would have like to deepen the kiss, further explored his mouth for more of that taste of his seed, but as soon as it was deposited, he pushed me away. I braced against the wall as my head spun from this unexpected treat. He quickly glanced over his shoulder. "Woof."

It was obvious; He was treating me like the dog he thought I was. I was given a reward, while simultaneously being forced into submission. My hands visibly trembled from this exchange and this result gave Ciel no end of pleasure.

I found my own arousal near-impossible to ignore most days. He wore his seed as though it were a cologne, and to add insult to injury, he would step just a little too close for what was considered decent, knowing that I would smell sex on him. Most evenings I was dismissed with no satisfaction, and instead I would angrily return to my own quarters to violently relieve myself of my own tensions.

He rarely wished to lay his hands on me. All he wished for was to be absorbed in the pleasure I could give him, and while I knew he desired me in some small way, he desired the sensations I could give him even more. I could not say that I craved attention from him, seeing as how the day's schedule revolved around the young master, but I did enjoy those small gestures. In the heat of the moment he pulled at me, as though I could not be close enough. Indeed, when the king's armor fell to his feet, I was able to see my master as his genuine self. I, and no other.

I knew what was transpiring, and I was delighted with how Ciel was playing into my sordid game. What was most wonderful was we were only getting started. He had no idea what was in store.

It was a lazy Saturday morning when at breakfast I informed the young master of no appointments and a clear schedule.

"You know how I hate to waste a day on nothing," Ciel said grumpily, stirring his tea. "I would practice my music..."

I finished his sentence, "-but you no longer have a violin."

The irritation was written across his brow. "Sebastian, after that day in my parlor," I knew to what day he was referring, "when I came back that evening after supper I found the smashed violin was gone."

"I cleaned the mess you left, young master." He bristled at the comment.

He assumed that by "cleaned" I meant disposal. In truth, I found every scrap of that violin and had gone so far as to reassemble it some weeks back, with a few moderations. As to not give the master any indication of my questionably subversive behavior, I had yet to discover just how well this corruptible instrument could sing.

"Perhaps it would be a good day for shopping," I suggested lowly. "How would the young master like to take a small trip to London today?"

"Very well, have Finnian prepare a carriage."

The gardener was more than excited to be the one to ride us into town. Bardroy exclaimed, "Why does he get to be the one to go to London?"

I explained coolly, "The young master and I have matters of music to discuss, in regards to the charity ball, if you must know." Never mind the fact that the vast majority of the young master's visits to London were solely accompanied by me, and I would be the one to drive the carriage.

Finnian's enthusiasm quickly turned to discontent when as soon as we made our way down the drive way and through the gate the clouds turned grey and resulted in a most unpleasant storm.

"We picked the worst day to visit the city," Ciel huffed as he gazed out the splattered window. I could read boredom in how he leaned his head in his palm, and his slouched posture. He tapped his foot irritatingly. "Sebastian, while we're out, I would also like to pick up a present for Lizzie."

"Very well, young master." I stared out my window as well with a calm indifference. I was trying to ignore how Ciel splayed his legs in such an undignified manner.

After a moment of silence, he added, "I don't know what to get her."

"Are you suggesting I make a decision for you?"

"I suppose I'm asking for your help."

I chuckled, "The last time I picked out a present for Elizabeth-"

"Sebastian, must you always be so contrary?" the boy spat. "I just don't know what girls like, is all."

"You could buy her a new hat."

"She has lots of hats, one for every outfit. She likes her hats to match her outfits, so if I were to buy her a hat, I might as well buy her an entire ensemble."

"Well, why not?"

"I don't know her measurements, Sebastian."

"Would you like me to find out?"

A horrified look spread over Ciel's face. "You can't just ask about a young lady's measurements."

"Yes, I suppose buying her an outfit and it being tailored perfectly to her would look a little suspicious."

"It would be more than suspicious, Sebastian." The boy crossed his arms. After the young couple's last encounter, there was no need to imply that Ciel had the intimate knowledge of the young woman's figure.

"So clothing is out of the question," I concluded.

We sat in the tense air of the carriage, rain pelting the top, its clapping providing some relief to the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"Do you suppose a book would be sufficient?" Ciel pleaded.

"It's a rather cold sentiment, considering the both of you have known each other for so long," I pondered. "It would be a nice gift for a small, informal occasion, but honestly, if you have to ask..."

"Sebastian, I'm terrible at this."

I did have sympathy for the boy who was almost clueless in these matters. He knew that society constantly watched the couple, assessing all their actions at every social event they attended. Ciel had been known a few years prior to be rather unsociable and had to strive to raise his reputation. Elizabeth was a huge help in this regard and thus received the opinion of many that she would make a successful wife. A few others added sourly that it were a shame that such a prized woman was arranged with the unsociable Phantomhive. While he made his waves in the business world, he would always flounder in social circles.

"I have an idea, young master." He perked up. "Does the lady wear perfume?"

His eyes sparkled. "Sebastian, that's a brilliant idea." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "She's always wearing something very flowery, like so many other girls, but I don't think she owns a true perfume that a lady would wear."

We agreed that visiting a perfumer would be added to our trip.

The city was soaked when we arrived, the streets filled with mud that stunk of the effluence of the city: gin and excrement. It was as though the bricks of the buildings were infused with it. It was always necessary for us to pass through East End to reach the cleaner, brighter heart of the city. Even still, the Opera Arcade looked morose under the day's deluge.

Having a much keener sense of smell than any human, the young master was grateful to have me accompany him to the perfumer. We settled on a bottle of Jicky for the young woman. The perfumer was under the impression that Ciel was there to buy the bottle for himself, but upon mentioning it was a gift for a lady, the surprised merchant insisting on boxing it lavishly. After the gift was handed to the earl, the man behind the counter commented, "This lady of yours must have a passionate spirit." Ciel looked away, grinning sheepishly.

As we left with parcel in hand, the little earl inquired, "What did the perfumer mean by his comment?"

"You mean how he assumes that Lady Elizabeth must be a passionate woman?"

"Yes, how would that relate to preference for perfume?"

"Young master, you must not have been paying attention to all of the perfume's notes. Initially, the citrus notes are vivacious to the point of being overwhelming, but it settles into something elegant and powdery. There's an underlying _fougere_ that is densely earthy and wild, suggesting something darkly secret, but it is tempered with lavender so as to be a little more feminine."

The boy stared at me like he had missed a good story. "I didn't catch all of that. But it did smell rather nice."

My hope was the Lady Elizabeth would be captivated by such an alluring scent. She was the sort of girl that teetered between wishing to comport herself with feminine civility and wishing to be romanced by that of a more sinister nature. While she would never admit to this, her attraction to Ciel was more than girlish fancy; her eyes spoke of the darkness that she sensed in the boy, even if it was on some subconscious level. Such things were frightening to her, or perhaps she was frightened just by her very inclinations to the sinister.

None the less, knowing the girl's scent from memory, I knew her wearing this perfume would turn heads and raise compliments. She would be considered not only classy but decidedly modern. In addition, the act of Ciel gifting this romantic item spoke much to the maturity of the two individuals, as well as the level of their relationship. The boy would admit it, but once again, I had been responsible in deciding a stunning gift for the woman.

Finnian carted us to a prestigious music shop to purchase the master's new violin. He sat morosely on a side street while we spent quite a bit of time determining a suitable instrument. I was surprised with how Ciel had become so very picky, wanting to find that right violin that could be an extension of his own "voice." What the boy lacked in olfactory senses he made up for in his ability to discern the slight auditory variances in each instrument.

One violin played a minor key with great depth, but lacked an appropriate octave range. Another one, slightly lighter in build, seemed to hiss under the master's fingers, and he very nearly threw it from himself upon hearing it. "Do you have anything better?" he urged the merchant, starting to grow rather impatient.

The older gentleman excused himself to a back room. He returned with a box in hand and Ciel nearly gasped when the lid was removed. The violin had a cherry red finish, gleaming as though wood could have been mistaken for glass. The neck was sensual, a perfectly proportionate length, the scroll at the end flamboyantly constructed. The body swelled erotically, and it was heavy to hold for its elegant design. Ciel held the finger board at first position and the bow ran a silky chord through the store. A couple on the other side stopped to turn. As the bow was pulled back, a flourish of notes leapt forth and resounded with an eerie high F in vibrato.

"I'll take this one."

"Good sir, are you going to inquire as to the price of this violin?" Ciel looked at the merchant as though he was out of his mind. He motioned me to pay the man.

As I laid a purse of sixty guineas on the counter, I inquired, "Do you think this would be sufficient?" Now it was the merchant's turn to look as us as insane. I gave him a simple smile, as I am inclined to do in these situations.

"Do not take me as a fool, sir," my little earl declared coldly. "This is no modern violin. This is of Italian design; from its proportions, I would say late Baroque. The finish is new, a pity really, but this ornamentation is extremely outmoded." Ciel chuckled. "It has aged extremely well, and this wood is extremely dense. The acoustics are what I need in an instrument."

I decided adding another ten guineas would help to send the message home. The master always gets what he wants.

The man offered a black, velvet-lined case complimentary to the purchase, but I decided to pay him another two guineas for his politeness.

When we were back at the carriage, Finnian exuberantly asked, "Will you play for us when we're back at the manor, young master?"

"Sure, whatever you want."

We sat silently in the carriage until we were out of the city. The sun was perched low and a new formation of clouds loomed over the landscape, darkening the skies earlier than expected. It would be dark by the time we arrived home. Finnian briefly stopped the carriage to light his lanterns in the front. Ciel insisted he would much prefer to sit in the dark.

"I get the impression my young master is in one of his moods," I said light heartedly.

"And what if I am?"

"I just find it curious, is all. You have little reason to be." The light was dim, the sky giving the impression of twilight, even if it was only quarter to five.

We listened to the wheels churn down the road. Suddenly, Ciel barked, "I know you did something with my old violin."

"Oh?" I leaned forward. "What gave it away?"

"Because I know you. You would have righted it immediately, but it has been over a month since—"

"Since you broke it."

Ciel huffed and slouched in his seat again.

"You didn't throw it away." The boy was absolute in this assertion.

"Correct."

"You kept it."

"Hmm."

"...Did you fix it?"

I hoped the boy could see that vicious glean in my eyes.

He very nearly bolted out of his seat. "So why did we even bother going into the city? What purpose do I have in buying another god damned violin?" His voice was rising to a level of indecency. Surely Finnian would hear.

"You will not be able to play it, young master."

The boy did not understand what I could have meant by this. Of course I was toying with him. Of course I was on the verge of angering him. I had little care, for I was in a mood to excite the boy in some fashion, after him having the upper hand for a better part of a week. He had no understanding of just how uncouth our game was going to turn, how his perceived control was really a lie he told himself. The poor boy would not have even admitted that what little power he had in this game was because I granted it to him; I did so only so I could revel in taking it back.

"Perhaps when we arrive at the manor, I will show it to you and you will see why you cannot play it."

A look of confusion was glossed over the boy's featured. "Could you not return it to any original condition? Was there some flaw that could not be mended?"

"I can assure you, young master, this was not an issue."

"So I'm assuming it plays as it did before."

I replied slowly, "I cannot be certain of how it plays, precisely." While I had not actually played the instrument after mending it, I was pretty confident that I had changed its acoustics.

"Damn it all, Sebastian, enough of your cryptic horse shit. Just tell me what you did to my violin!"

"The violin is played _a sinistra_."


	10. Chapter 10

**_For optimal reading pleasure, this chapter is best paired with Tartini's "Devil's Trill" Sonata in D Minor. Go look it up on YouTube. _**

* * *

"Where is it?"

My lips curled from his clipped tone. "The violin? In my possession."

He clenched his teeth in an attempt to contain his irritation. Shaking, he barked. "I'll be in the music room. Bring it to me immediately."

"Yes, my lord." How dare I take something that is not mine? I acted out of line, but was that not one of the tactics in this game in which we dared to dally? Perhaps it was not the violin that caused his anger, but rather my inclination to keep secrets.

I retrieved the violin from the bottom drawer of the armoire, tucked under linens, as if I had someone other than myself from which to conceal it. The clicking of my heels penetrated the silence of the halls as I hurried to the music room. The warmth of lit lanterns barely diffused the grey atmosphere of the parlor. Imposing furniture cast shadows too deep as the storm pelted against the window. Ciel's new violin lay in its case on the table, untouched. Upon my arrival, he stood from his Tudor chair as though he was welcoming my performance.

"Give it here." I obliged the young master, and as he grasped the instrument in his left hand he immediately sensed a fundamental change in its composition.

"What is this?" He looked at me with confusion and disbelief. "You've ruined it! What kind of sick joke is this, Sebastian?"

I tenderly plucked the violin from his shaking hand and placed it underneath my chin to my right. Raising the bow, I proclaimed, "Do you remember what I said of such an instrument?"

"Something about how you would prefer to play left-handed? So you would go behind my back to merely indulge this peculiar notion?"

I raised the bow from the table in my left hand waved it with a flourish. My contract seal tingled, for I was eager to direct a very nefarious concert. "Yes, but it is so much more than an indulgence for me. It is also an opportunity for you. You remember I said to you that you have never heard me truly play." The young master eyed that bow suspiciously.

He folded his arms. "I also remember you saying how the whole instrument had to be reconfigured, a mirror image, as it were."

"Indeed. Not only was the instrument restrung, but pegs were also reversed. I had to alter the bridge so the strings could be laid properly. Even the instruments innards had to be flipped to compensate for the proper acoustics. Lastly," I caressed my chin into the body, "he now prefers I lie upon him on this side."

"So it's supposed to play differently now?"

"My young master, in theory it should sound like a normal violin. The difference is in the musician. The bow is the active, projective force when playing the violin. For most good gentlemen, dominance resides on the right. Now, if one were to utilize the projective act on the left…" I slid the bow across the strings, and a note wept from the beautiful creation. "Does it affect the tone, feeling, essence of the music? I suppose one could say my virtuosity is borne of my sinister nature." I fingered a trill and so many notes spilled over themselves, pooling around me.

Ciel's eye widened in disbelief, having never seen a sight as strange – as if a mirrored image was misplaced in solid reality where it was never meant to exist. He felt it best to sit back down in that intolerably stiff chair.

Minor chords wound from my fingers on the neck. The bow caressed across him as smoothly as silk cords, cajoling him to submit his secrets. I swayed to this weeping, all the while, paying attention to the boy as he gazed in awe. As I seized on a jarring chord, he responded with a jerk. Again, sonorous notes tied in and wound tension around passages that gripped the heart in suspense and unease. I eased a gentle, final note that rippled the air. The stillness that followed was just as jarring and Ciel grasped at the arm rest of his chair.

"Sebastian... how is it that I never knew...? I've listened to you for years. You've instructed me and..."

"You have only ever heard me play 'properly,' young master. It is rather stiff and restrained in comparison to this, do you not agree?" He simply nodded.

"What were you playing?"

"Oh, I am not finished. But I am surprised you are not familiar with this composition, my little lord. Well, it was only the introduction. Perhaps you would like me to continue?"

Despite a nonchalant wave of approval, a cerulean eye carried a heavy certainty. "Indulge me."

Immediately, the bow dashed lightly my fingers danced. A jerky rhythm took ahold of me and I felt myself falling into this bizarrely chipper cadence but underneath its surface resided an impish quality. Recognition dawned on the young master's face. "Surely, not. This is."

"Yes?" I inquired, continuing my frenetic pace.

"This is Tartini."

"Very good, young master." I delved into the manic melody harder, the notes more urgent, and the scales escalated in raucousness.

"Did he not sell his soul for this very composition?"

"There have been rumors of such, but only rumors." The violin squealed at this speed, and while limber fingers could maintain the pace, my thoughts began to whirl with this jarring melody. The energy of the music was palpable as it rushed up my arm, the seal burning with enthusiasm. "But such a composition is challenging for even the most skilled violinist. That is, unless they were given aid by some outside influence."

The melody ebbed once more, and the morose chords pooled about us. Ciel rose from his chair, timidly moving towards me. I pressed on, wanting to take him into this abyss, knowing I was the only one who could.

"I... can't stop shaking. Sebastian, what do you do to me?" His voice rattled with uncertainty. His eye glistened and I watched his control flicker away as though tugged apart by so many strings. My black-tipped fingers danced upon the neck, and their influence compelled Ciel to respond as if they skimmed over his own flesh. In his eye I saw the acceptance of a very grim truth that he so desperately wished to deny. The song I played was of him: heavy, mournful, and removed from grace.

I felt the weight of the melody lift and I trembled as I flew into a flurry of erratic scales once more. I watched my young master respond with hitched breath. A force of heated timbres, sinister and intense, coupled with passages of mournful weeping teetering on the edge of instability. Ciel clutched at himself, being swept through his own polarizing conflict.

On the verge of breaking, the aching in his heart worked itself over his features. As the young earl was apt to do, he charged headlong, past the fear and timidity aside – I felt his soft hand caress my cheek.

Oh, how the contact drew me into this corrupt cadence even further. My fingers jerked over the neck, my bow thrusting harder, singing obscenities that pained the ears and could tear a heart from the chest. Such a reaction further encouraged his need to reach for me, to touch the source of all his conflict, as well as the salvation from it. I felt his hands tugging at the buttons of my jacket, but I refused to stop. As he reached the buttons of my shirt I realized he's never seen my bare chest. Fingers crawled over my flesh, and the song became a torrent of maddening arpeggios, with chords that rung of an otherworldly nature. I gulped at the air, as I drove harder still, and the boy moved to grasp me from behind. I felt his ragged breath on my neck, his body pinned against my back, clutching and clawing. I felt the tug at the waist band and the immediate loosening as the buttons were unfastened. His fingers danced bare over my hips and the music swelled with an untold agony, airing the harsh secrets we never dare display. Those perfect hands of Ciel took ahold of me, desperately erect, and it was at that point that I came undone.

My vulnerability was displayed before him, and nothing could have compelled me to cease. Let him see me undignified, wretched and wanting, I thought. I was swollen, and his grasping drove my violin to moan, scream, notes hyperventilating erratically. One last painful pitch ripped from my being and Ciel's nails dug into me, as though fearful I would dissipate into the ether along with this damning sonata.

My arms went limp, and I set the most precious implement of music on the table, for it had performed its work successfully. The boy continued his stroking: maddeningly slow yet blissfully deliberate. Nervous, ragged breaths resounded where once the haunting melody had occupied the twilight space. I would not dare to move, for fear my master would be discouraged in giving me this pleasure. Could it be that I was overwhelmed by his blatant want? Never had he been so forward. My devious plan was far more effective than even I could anticipate, and now I found myself... uncharacteristically startled by these developments. Not only that, I was startled by this aching, the sheer force of my desire for my young master, which made me that much more aware of my ever-present emptiness.

His hands were so soft. I stared at a blank spot on the wall, not daring to look down at how his fingers slipped over the head, tracing across the underside of my organ, following a pattern of grasping, tugging, and then gentle stroking. All of this sensation caused me to tighten, trembling from the pressure. I was the servant, and here I was being serviced.

"Sebastian..." my young master whispered. "I want to kiss you."

I wasted no time. I spun around, grasping the boy's face in my shaking hands, and his wanting lips parted, receiving mine with a moan. In his eagerness he unbuttoned my waist coat, while I loosened my tie. The buttons of my shirt came undone and I had a fleeting thought that Ciel had never seen me in such an exposed, indecent state. When I felt his fingers graze my abdomen, I decided the issue was not worth any thought. Lips puckered around a nipple, and I grasped at his hair, undoing the silk strands of his eye patch that was cast aside to reveal an iris shimmering. He deftly unbuttoned his own top.

Ciel murmured, "I want to feel you." Never had the boy made such a request. It was neither demand nor order; it was genuine desire. This realization inflamed me with even greater want. "Ah… this, I can't stop-"

"Do you want to, my young lord?" I whispered.

He pressed hard against me, his voice trembling from the contact, flesh on flesh. "I think this goes far beyond simple desire... hah..." he placed a wet kiss on my chest, and I felt the graze of his teeth, the heat of his tongue. "What is this cruel need you have instilled in me?"

My teeth grazed his neck and he yelped. I grasped at his rump and sighed into his ear. "Perhaps you now have some understanding of the burden I have carried with me these long years, young master." I felt his tongue trace my collar bone and he struggled with the buttons on his trousers. "You are entitled to know these secrets so long as you have the courage to seek them." His erect cock slipped free. "And I know my little master cannot resist continuing to play with fire." Our erections met, and a quick graze against the other emboldened our urgency further.

He pulled at me, led by my loose shirt, beckoning me to the bench. As he lay over the cushions, the fabric from his shirt parted further, shorts slinking further down his bottom. He pulled me onto him, his hips bucking to meet mine. Bodies collided, hip to hip. Clothes hung from us most undignified, wrinkled and pushed aside, but we cared little, for all our untamed urgency.

Ciel gasped from the contact, heated erection rubbing against my own, and our touches urgent and overwrought with passion. My desperation was fierce, palpable, and surely to see me so exposed overwhelmed him. Grinding into him I let out a sigh, and in that moment Ciel understood that he had my full, complete, unwavering attention. His fingers traced along my back, underneath my open shirt, the neck tie long forgotten.

"Sebastian... you are so warm..." he nipped at my chin, wanting to hide the blush of his face while I continued to grind against his hot organ. Hips quivered and rocked, his back arching exquisitely.

I implored, "Please, young master, do not cease with your indulgences."

I caressed a cheek and he collected my fingers in his own. "Your hands... having done unspeakable things... and yet I sometimes I frighten myself with how much I crave them." His eyes were ablaze as his tongue traced over my knuckles, lips ending at the seal... and I felt as though it were being burned into me all over again. I was aghast with how sensitive one's hands could be. Taking a digit in his mouth, I could feel a shock that spun itself down to the core, and I bucked in response. His breath hitched at this unexpected pressure, and we were both growing slick against each other, urging us to rock faster, grind harder.

The young master was breathing more erratically, each thrust producing a quivering moan. I felt his sweet breath on my face and kissed fervently. The manner in which he grasped my shoulders was pleading, desperate. He felt so fragile underneath me, and yet he would press back fearlessly.

"How can I... want you so much? How is it that such a desire feels so... necessary?" His thrusts felt almost frustrated, as if finding a release could not come soon enough. Fingers slid down my neck, through my hair. "What sorcery have you worked upon me, Sebastian?"

I felt the pleasure was mounting, fluid collecting between us, urging me faster. My arms wrapped around his thin torso, holding him down as my hips gyrated in a circle... over, and over, a pulse he could not move away from. I whispered in his ear, "You know my secret, how I cannot resist you, your smell, your taste, the sounds you make... and the truth of it is... no one has ever desired you more genuinely than I have. No one ever will, because no one can know you as completely as I."

The truth of it all was written as shame on his face which he tried to shield behind a trembling hand. "No." I pulled it away and kissed his palm. "Look at me." My hair curtained around him, a fortress enough. "Do not hide your face, your precious face." My hips pulsed harder, circling erratically. His body tensed, trying so hard to push the inevitable away. "Come for me, young master." I was barely audible.

Despite how forcefully I clung to him, he bucked under me. Sweat collected on his brow. I saw the rose in his cheeks, his lips swollen red. I watched his features tense further and further, until the pressure spun itself loose and he crashed into his orgasm. I held his face, staring into those wide eyes filled with horror to be so exposed to me. Regardless, he clung to me as he rocked through his pleasure.

He had not simply climaxed from the stimulation; it was because of me. And here I was, privileged enough to see a sight so gorgeous as my young master's face blooming with unbearable pleasure. It was too much.

His seed collected between us, and hungrily I thrust against this slickness between us. I pushed between his thighs, desperate for closeness, desperate for my own release.

"Please, young master, let me have this." I felt the friction of this thighs rubbing over me, and I took this as a sign of approval. He buried his face in my chest as I kept thrusting, rocking him violently in the process. I allowed myself to finally acknowledge my own bitter truth: I could don the mask of a servant so well that I had forgotten my own nature. Ciel was a damn fool to allow such intimacy, and I was a damn fool to succumb to it. In that moment, I had never been so acutely aware of my starved condition.

For a brief moment, the mask had fallen, and my pleasure peaked, fingers twisting in the boy's hair. A feral grunt caused him to tremble under me, and all I could think was, "This is mine. Mine, all mine." Hot seed poured and it did nothing to quell that emptiness. I felt more of a husk because of it. The swell of sensation overwhelmed me, and yet I felt so coldly bereft.

As I descended from my orgasm, I never felt so weak. My breath rattled. Despite not needing to breathe, why was I so shaken?

When I looked into his face, coming off my orgasm, a solitary tear perched on his right eye. I kissed it away, tasting conflict and sorrow and wondered how none of that bitter flavor manifested on his face. Such a tender gesture compelled him to wrap his arms around my waist, easing me down. My elbows propped me up above him, casting his face in deep shadow. A minute passed, each of us breathless as we stared unbelieving of what just transpired. Finally, he said simply, "What is this? What are we doing?"

His question brought me to my senses. We were in such a state of disarray. For once, I had lost track of the time. I realized the sun was quite low. Bard was in the kitchen by himself. I had no idea where the other servants were, much less whether they had remained on task without my supervision.

I bolted upright and lunged for my discarded waistcoat, pulling out a handkerchief to clean off the young master. We were a deplorable mess. Why was I still shaking?

I noticed a crack in the door, and I distinctly recalled shutting it when I had first entered the room.

* * *

This chapter was so very important to me. I abso-fuckin'-lutely love this chapter to pieces and I lovingly slaved over it to get it perfect. A lot of emotion went into this chapter, so I'm super excited to be sharing it with all of my followers here. So here is me, groveling for reviews.  
Please tell me how much you loved it. I worked so hard. *tears* I appreciate any and all feedback. Y'all are wonderful for having kept up with me.

Future updates: Meh. Chapters 11 and 12 are stewing. They are probably not what you expect, and if you can predict what's going to happen next, then I'm just not doing it right. Anticipate some heavy stuff in the coming chapters. We'll be getting to the tragedy bits eventually. And in case you were worrying, no, Ciel isn't going to turn into a pansy little emo kid. But I'm hoping that future events in the story will cause him to flip his shit. You'll have to wait. *grin*

Is it the sadist in me who loves to see this kid in pain? There is something about his emotional turmoils and his PTS breakdowns that just make his character so thrilling. Someone agree with me on this.

To answer someone's question: Yes, Grell will make an appearance. No, xe doesn't get any tail. Sorry, that's not my ship.

Until next time!


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